Lullaby of the Lily Flower
by Estel Star-Kindler
Summary: Estel has come to winter at Mirkwood for the first time, but when he hears snatches of a song and dreams of things long before his time, he begins to unearth a secret about Mirkwood's Queen that someone would kill to keep...
1. The King does not Dance

**Disclaimer:**** You know something? One day, one blessed day, I shall find a loophole, and I _shall_ drag these wonderful characters through it _without_ being sued. I'll keep you updated on its progress **

**A/N:**** Wow! Firstly, thank you to everyone who reviewed _With A Little Help from My Friends_, I was amazed at the response it got, you wonderful, wonderful people! And also thank you for encouraging me to write this. I don't write for reviews, but any writer likes it when they receive a compliment so thank you!**

**Now this chapter is strangely long even for me, so please bear with it till the end, dear reader, if you would.**

**Ok, anything you need to know… Names!**

**Lómë – Dusk**

**Rómen – ****Sunrise******

**And that's all you're getting for now, though more will appear **

**Oh, and thank you to Someone Reading who pointed out that number typo for me, its bee fixed and reloaded! Thank you!**

**Now without further ado I present to you – Lullaby of the Lily Flower!**

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**Chapter One –The King Does Not Dance**

As the musicians played vigorously in the far corner of the banqueting hall, Thranduil King of Mirkwood sat further back in his chair, a glass of honey white wine in one hand as he watched his people dancing happily before him. The long table at the head of which he sat was the only one left out; the many others that had only hours ago been groaning beneath the weight of the many dishes and delicacies they carried had vanished, to make room for a dance floor. Now maids and soldiers old and young sang and laughed and skipped in and out of one another, their cheeks flushed with the potent wine of their fair homeland and the night's festivities. A contented smile settled on his face, and he found his foot drumming in time to the beat with the music, humming absently to the tune.

In the very centre of the hall were six figures he watched the most; three elves with hair of gold, two with raven braids and the last, a young human man. Normally Thranduil would not feel disposed to the mortal one way or the other, but the wine tempted him to like the boy. Well he had arrived with the sons of Elrond had he not? Had Elrond not raised the child himself? Surely he could not cause too much hassle – and his son seemed to hold him in such high esteem already. For the moment at least, he trusted his son's judgement, and hummed merrily along to the songs. It had been long, far too long since Mirkwood had been given any reason to celebrate; but with the return of her Crown Prince after three years, Thranduil had set about preparing a grand feast in his honour. It was not one of Legolas' favourite pastimes, but if nothing else his people needed it; the Shadow from the south never lessened nor grew, and yet it remained steadily constant over all their hearts; so real merriment was a joy to them, to forget for a while their worries and concerns.

In the centre of the hall, those six whom the King had been watching were blissfully unaware of it; in fact, other than their own silly jokes and dances, they were oblivious to just about everything – including, as far as the twins were concerned, the beat of the music.

"Elladan – one, two; one, two, three!" Estel tried to impose upon his older brother the step, but fell about laughing when the Noldo elf tangled up his legs and crashed into his twin. A roar of laughter erupted around them as they swayed on the spot before regaining their balance.

"Estel, you never told me how easily wine affected them!" Prince Legolas tried to protest, but failed to remain serious about it as Elrohir collapsed in a fit of giggles on his brother's shoulder.

"I think that maybe they're a hopeless case, my friend!" one of the other golden haired elves chuckled, giving Elladan a steadying arm to lean on as he veered sideways.

"There never was much hope for themRómen; trust me, I've lived with them for twenty five years," Estel told the archer, and his sister laughed.

"Oh the pair of them!" she giggled, "I have hardly known them a day and I feel I could tell you all about them."

"We're not keeping them, Lómë," Rómenwarned, and she stuck her tongue out playfully.

All six danced around together – or rather, four danced and attempted to keep the other two on their feet – until the lively jig finally came to a climatic end, when everyone clapped and cheered for the musicians. Panting slightly and with rose flushed cheeks, they made their way over to the refreshments, dragging Elladan and Elrohir with them as the band prepared for the next piece.

"Your kingdom certainly loves you, mellon nin," grinned Estel as Legolas poured him some wine. The Prince rolled his eyes.

"Don't you patronise us Legolas!" scolded Lómë, tapping him lightly on the arm. "You ride off for three years doing all manner of heroic and courageous deeds, and then do not expect us to acknowledge them?"

Legolas laughed and handed Estel his glass. "I am not convinced they that they were heroics, Lómë," he said lightly.

"Not heroics? No of course not," grinned Rómenmischievously, "All in a day's work for the Prince of Mirkwood, I have no doubt."

Legolas half scowled, half smiled at him and turned to help Elladan lean on the table. "Estel, when was the last time your brother's drank anything with half the potency of my cellars?"

"In all likelihood my twenty-first birthday," the Ranger told him, "they didn't water any of their drinks down and had a splitting headache that even my father could not cure for a week."

"That sounds painful," sympathised Lómë, patting Elrohir on the arm as he tried and failed to pick up his glass.

"It was," agreed Estel, "They wouldn't stop moaning about it night and day, and locked me in my room so I wouldn't disturb them – but I suppose they may have found it painful too," he winked.

"I was _talking_ about them," she laughed, but just then another dance started up.

"Pair up everyone!" shouted an elf near the front, and Estel held his hand out for Lómë.

"Would you do me the honour of dancing with me, my lady?" he asked her graciously.

She chuckled and blushed slightly. "You have the most charming and polite of friends, Legolas!" she said, "I would be delighted."

Legolas shook his head at the young man as he led Lómë to the dance floor.

"Looking for a partner your majesty?" Rómen asked, his eyes twinkling, and before Legolas could even attempt escape had grabbed his wrist and was pulling him to the centre of the hall beside his sister.

"Beautiful dance partner you have there!" called Estel to the Prince, who just scowled at him, causing the Ranger to laugh.

Turning back to Lómë, he swirled her under his arm and caught her as she arched back. "So," he asked conversationally, "How long have you known Legolas then?"

"Prince Legolas? Oh years and years!" she answered as they twirled around. "He and my brother were already close friends when I was born, so he is almost another brother to me. When did you meet him?"

"About fifteen years ago," he replied, "But I'll wager he never told you the circumstance surrounding that meeting?"

"He never did speak of it, no; pray tell if you would?"

"How could I refuse such a request from such a noble lady?"

"Oh you are all compliments and politeness, Estel," she beamed.

"Believe me, its not a trait I picked up from my brothers," he murmured, as the twins went lumbering past as well as elves can lumber, each 'dancing' with a maiden they had managed to find; or rather, with maidens who had taken pity on their induced state. Lómë laughed at him and encouraged him to tell his tale.

Legolas meanwhile, was feeling very self conscious about dancing with his fellow soldier.

"Is this really necessary?" he said in a pained voice.

"It is the only chance I will ever get to dance with you my friend; the maidens are all queuing up for you, though you pay them no heed."

"I pay them heed as I will," corrected the Prince, then as an afterthought added, "And they are not queuing up."

"No indeed?" laughed Rómen, "Why, look over there! By the wine barrels."

Full of scepticism, Legolas glanced over his shoulder to see a line of about five or six house maids, all trying unsuccessfully to watch him with his noticing. He sighed, making Rómen scoff.

"I would that I was in your position, my friend," he admitted as they swirled together, Legolas still not too sure about the whole idea.

"My position?" he echoed. "They chase a warrior Prince who fights for his country, who does his best to please his father and remain part of the people. They do not really know me any more than they know the King; they know who I should be. People follow identities real or false"

"You are getting very deep for a feast thrown in your honour your majesty!" Rómen said lightly.

"You asked me a question," he shrugged as Rómen twirled under his arm.

"You could have just lied?" suggested his friend.

"I'm a Prince," stated Legolas.

"And I am a member of the Royal Guard; that does not stop me lying to you if it means you will stay away from a horde of Orcs."

Legolas stopped dead and turned to face his friend wide eyed. "You do that?"

"Occasionally, when you are being stubborn – which is all the time actually," Rómen realised out loud.

"You astound me friend; you will never cease to amaze me," the Prince grinned.

"I like to keep you on your toes," Rómen winked as the dance came to its end, and he turned to greet Estel and his sister heading towards them, Lómë with a look of great awe on her face.

"And what story has he told you now, Lómë?" Legolas asked, already knowing the Ranger had said something to the easily impressionable young elf woman.

"The manner of our first meeting, actually," Estel answered. "A story well worth the telling; I do not see why you have not told it before."

"You rescued him from a pack of Wargs?" said Lómë breathlessly. "A whole pack, all alone?"

Legolas glanced wordlessly at the Ranger, who just smiled. "Lómë, you must appreciate that he exaggerates greatly"-

"I did no such thing," Estel informed him, turning to retell the tale to Rómen. "I had run into the mountains when I was about fifteen, after a row with Elladan when he said I was too young to accompany them on a hunting trip. I remained there for three days, causing no end of worry to my family I am sure; but when I did decide to return home from hunger, a large group of large Wargs seemed to think that _I_ would make a nice meal."

"It was not a large group Estel, there cannot have been more than twelve," Legolas cut in slightly exasperated.

"Only twelve?" echoed Rómen. "Legolas, by whose standards do you judge yourself by?" The Prince rolled his eyes. "They do usually hunt in packs of twenty, Rómen." His friend ignored him.

"Luckily for me," continued Aragorn, "At that time Legolas was taking the High Pass to Rivendell on business for his father; and chanced upon my rather unfortunate mishap. Had it not been for your Prince, I would not be standing here today."

"As it was, I had to carry you back half-dead," admitted Legolas. "Quite a shock for your father I think when I turned up with the bloodied body of his youngest son in my arms – not exactly how I envisioned my first meeting with Lord Elrond of Imladris."

"I do believe I shall never understand how your mortals do not snap in half," laughed Rómen, though mightily impressed by the tale.

"We are more resilient than we look," Estel chuckled, his eyes twinkling.

"If not quite as intelligent," joked the Prince and Estel went to shove him, but the elf was of course too quick for that.

"You came off lucky in the dancing though, I do believe," smirked the young man. "You managed to find yourself one of the most talented dancers in the room!"

"Nay my Prince, do not speak!" Rómen jumped in before his friend could protest. "The pleasure was all mine," he assured him, waving his arms flamboyantly and bowing in an ostentatious fashion. While the others laughed the Prince once again rolled his eyes and turned to watch the twins, who were half-slumped against the wall. Drawn by the elf's half nod, Estel followed his gaze and shook his head helplessly.

"I simply cannot take them anywhere," he sighed. Rómen sniggered and Lómë began giggling again, their identical green eyes flashing.

"I think we had best help them," Legolas advised, "before they embarrass themselves _and_ your father."

The Ranger could hardly find fault with this and together they went to peel Elladan and Elrohir up off the floor. As Aragorn pulled the younger twin to his feet with an arm around his shoulders, he couldn't help smiling at how much they were going to regret this tomorrow. Elrohir however was utterly and blissfully unaware of this fact and with his left hand began to puppeteer and mimic, as far as Estel could make out, their father.

"Do not take the High Pass, it is not safe yet!" he boomed in a deep voice, his fingers flapping out of time with the words. "I mean, honeschtly Eschtel," he added back in his own voice, his words now slurring, "You'd fink'n elf like'meh – and like Dan – where are you?" he asked absently, waving his hand gracelessly towards his brother. "You'd fink'weh could take care of ourschelves! But noooo…"

Legolas gave him a quizzical look as Elladan hung off of his arm, quite happily conversing with himself about the food that night.

"You do not want to know, my friend," Estel shook his head. "My father decided long ago that since they do everything else together, they must have been dropped on their heads together at birth."

Rómen snorted with laughter as Lómë hit him on the arm.

"You should not be so cruel!" she scolded. "Did you even tell them to water the wine down?"

As Estel and Legolas began partially dragging the twins back to the table, Rómen merely shrugged and followed.

"Elladan told me he was not as weak as to not hold his wine," he answered, "Who was I to argue?"

"You should have persuaded him! Besides, what about Elrohir?"

"I should not worry about them, honestly Lómë," Estel assured her. "Elrohir will follow wherever Elladan leads. I am afraid your brother probably never really had much choice in the matter."

"There, you see?" protested Rómen as they reached the end of the table. "It was decided before I even spoke."

Lómë didn't reply, but scowled at her brother through narrowed eyes.

"I did not do anything wrong!" he cried incredulously, holding his hands up in defence. Lómë continued to scowl and lifted her chin.

As the twins were deposited into chairs, Aragorn and Legolas seated themselves down, the Ranger picking at what was left of the grapes.

"I am sorry tonight has not gone quite as expected," the Prince apologised quietly.

"Sorry?" echoed Estel bewildered, a large red grape half way on its journey to his mouth. "It has been brilliant! Whatever are you sorry for?"

Legolas gestured wordlessly to the twins, and to the bickering siblings coming towards them.

"I had rather hoped to have a quiet gathering with my father and close friends," he said truthfully, "I never have been too fond of feasts."

"You always fared well at Imladris," Estel pointed out grinning, but the Prince shook his head.

"Aye, but the Hall of Fire is not made for celebrations such as this, I am sure you will agree. No – I prefer unobtrusive greetings – and I had rather hoped to introduce you to my father in somewhat more _predictable_ circumstances," he finished rather evasively.

"Legolas," the Ranger whispered as though it were a conspiracy, "You worry far too much, my friend. Your people are happy that you have returned to them – you are their Crown Prince, it is hardly unexpected."

"I know – yet still," sighed the Prince, "My father… You must understand Estel," he began earnestly, "The only dealings my people have with mortals is for the most part with the men of Laketown – and even they are not held in high esteem. So I had thought"-

"I understand," Estel comforted him. "Truly Legolas, you need not worry. I promise not to give you father reason to dislike me, but we can do no more; as much as I want to please him my friend, if things are not meant to be, then the circumstance in which they are introduced will make very little difference."

"You are kind Estel – but I am afraid he will not even give you a chance to prove yourself," the elf Prince smiled back. He was touched by the warm-heartedness of the Ranger but whereas he _knew_ no better man lived, he got the distinct feeling the King of Mirkwood would not see it that way. He had a stubborn streak and was proud, but while that make him a good monarch and father, Legolas also knew it meant that once his mind was made up, it would not change. If he did not like or even approve of Estel now, he never would.

"It will be well, mellon nin," grinned the young man encouragingly. "Try to have an optimistic outlook for once."

Easy for someone called Hope, the Prince inwardly smirked. "Just like you, grubby mortal?"

"Just like me, stubborn elf," Aragorn winked.

By now, the musicians across the Hall had put their instruments away for a few moments' rest and after a brief applause, those filling the dance floor were wandering towards the wine or breaking up for the gardens.

"Legolas!" A rich voice called the Prince from the head of the table. "Come, talk to the father that has missed you these past years."

Legolas grimaced slightly at the effect the wine also had on his father, but knew better than to say anything about it.

"Ada," he smiled brilliantly, lighting up his whole face as he rose to his feet and headed up table.

For there he was – the Elven King in all his glory. Layers of forest green silken robes flowed around him where he sat on an oaken throne, and a crown of autumn leaves and red berries rested upon his fair golden hair. His blue eyes sparkled merrily with the light of the evening as he gazed at his only son. Legolas knelt down before his monarch, and Thranduil gently kissed the top of his head.

"I beg forgiveness for my leave, your Majesty," he said, looking up into a face so like his own and yet different, "Other deeds and events beyond my control called me far from my home."

"Yet it matters not now, for you have returned," the King beamed, his cheeks ever so slightly rosy. "Yes, you are home… Now be seated here beside me, and tell me of your travels – and your friends must come too!" He motioned for Estel and the twins to come forward.

Estel stood up awkwardly before glancing at his brothers, who were snoring happily leaning on one another. Giving up on them, he came to King Thranduil alone and bowed.

"Your Majesty," he addressed him formally, "Estel, son of Elrond of Imladris at your service and your Kingdom's. I must speak on the behalf of my brother's as well; for I fear Elladan and Elrohir have had more of your spectacular wine than I believe they can hold."

The King laughed and Estel found himself wondering what it was Legolas had been so worried about.

"Indeed! So, you are the infamous Ranger then?" he confirmed with mild interest. "The mortal child of Lord Elrond I believe?"

"Ada," said Legolas quietly, his words for Thranduil's ears alone, but his father paid him no heed.

"Aye, that is true; I am his youngest son. Though I fear that I may not yet claim infamy, my Lord," he smiled confusedly, glancing at Legolas.

"Word has reached my halls from many sources, young Estel," the King said knowingly, "You may find that we have heard more of this Strider than you give us credit for Legolas!"

The Prince forced a smile, and shot an apologetic look at his friend.

"Come now! You must take a seat, and recall some of your tales. I fear my son has rather a dislike for the things."

"Nay father; I merely do not wish to flaunt my own stories," Legolas assured him.

"That sounds like the Legolas I have come to know," grinned the young man. "Many times he has saved my life, though he would not boast it."

"And many times you have saved mine," his friend pointed out. "You merely have a freer tongue than I."

"This coming from he," whispered Estel conspiratorially, "Who is the one keeping count."

"I am not keeping count!" The Prince protested. "Although," he added more to himself, "You do seem to have an unexplainable attraction to cliff faces…"

"I resent that comment," Estel sniffed, crossing his arms.

"Many a true word is said in jest they say," winked Thranduil, as the musicians began to take their place up once more on the stand. "And alas! As fast as I get you here, you no doubt will leave now to dance."

"Ada, we can stay"-

"No, no, I would not have you do that," the King brushed the comment off. "I would have you enjoy yourself, for tonight is for you."

Legolas nodded gratefully. Estel's meeting with his father had been very brief and he had seemed to have impressed him; but he wasn't taking any chances.

"Come then Estel!" he smiled, "And this time, I am dancing with Lómë…"

As the pair rose to their feet, an idea struck the Ranger; it may have been that the wine had dulled his sense, but he felt more confident around the Elven King than he probably should have been.

"My Lord, forgive me for my boldness, but will you not join us?"

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Estel knew it had been the wrong thing to say. Legolas froze mid step, glancing fearfully at his father, who was suddenly glaring at the man as though he were a murderous traitor. The whole atmosphere between them radically changed, as fleetingly as a devastating flash flood.

"My Lord I am sorry, I meant no offence"- he apologised quickly, but the damage was already done.

"Kindly remove this mortal from my sight," Thranduil said to his son coldly. It was not a request, it was an order.

Estel glanced from King to Prince hopelessly. Where mere moments ago Thranduil had been laughing with the Ranger, now he seethed at him, icy blue eyes poring in. Legolas gently took his arm and moved away to the dance floor.

"First rule of banquets," he ground out through clenched jaws, "The King of Mirkwood does not dance."

Estel could not catch his friend's eye and stammered apologies all the way across the hall and out into the gardens. He could tell he had asked something unbelievably wrong of the King, but he could not understand why, and now his friend would not even look at him!

"Legolas please, I meant no offence, you must believe me," Aragorn pleaded at the prince sat him down on a bench while kneeling in front of him. Looking deep into the grey eyes, Legolas could easily see the fear and worry his friend thought he had caused.

"Hush mellon nin," Legolas soothed gently. "I _know_ you meant no more than what you asked. But I warned you… My father…"

"But you are angry with me!"

Legolas was shocked. "No Aragorn, no I am not. This is not your fault – if anyone is to blame, it is my father."

"But you warned me, you said it yourself, and I"-

The Prince shook his head helplessly, his face momentarily an unreadable expression. "Something – happened," he swallowed hard, forcing the words out, "A long time ago. It – my father has never fully recovered in – some aspects."

"But I don't understand, he hates me, I could see it"-

"No," Legolas cut in softly, "He does not hate you. He… Do not blame yourself, Estel. You were not to know." He sighed heavily. He did not want to lie to his friend but in all honesty… He would be surprised if next morning his father did not want him taken from the Kingdom.

Inside, another merry jig had started up.

"I do not think I want to join the feast anymore," Estel said brokenly. How could he have been so stupid? He should have known his place! Now he had ruined all chances all of any kind of respectful relationship with the King, with one swift and _stupid_ comment!

"No," agreed Legolas. "Perhaps that would be best."

"I want to go to my room," he said just as quietly. He knew he was acting younger than he was and he felt it, but he suddenly felt ashamed in the presence of a friend who had been so worried of what he had just caused, with his blundering antics.

Legolas nodded. The Ranger's room was far from the festivities, in a chamber next to his own. He would not hear the noise for the most part he hoped.

"Come, I will take you."

"No," started Estel at once. "No – I would rather have some time to think – alone. Perhaps I could find a way to earn forgiveness from your father; stranger things have happened." He smiled weakly.

"They have indeed," the Prince agreed, squeezing the man's shoulder reassuringly. "Good night, Strider."

With a final nod, Estel turned away and disappeared into the darkness of the gardens, crossing to another entrance near the living quarters. Legolas watched him go with a heavy heart, though he did not quite understand what his friend was feeling. He would speak with his father, but not tonight; the morning would serve him better. With another long sigh, he returned to the Hall, though remained seated in the corner for the rest of the evening and joined no more dances.

In his room, Estel lay fully clothed on his bed. His mind was reeling; he knew not all Elves thought as kindly of men as those in Rivendell did, but he had not expected that… The glare the Elven King had pierced him with had been so severe and biting and – something he could not identify, but that did not trouble him. He did not wish to solve a riddle that would only hurt more. He closed his eyes tight shut. Tonight had been so good… Legolas' best friends had accepted him without question, something he had feared the entire journey to Mirkwood; and to have been so close to being approved by the King, and to have thrown it all away.

The young Ranger balled his fists, and turned onto his side. Tomorrow, he would seek his brothers' advice, and ask them how he should proceed. Contented only slightly by that thought, he tried to slip into the realm of sleep, while across the grounds the distant sound of music continued. He breathed deeply and tried to block it out, but the softest of sounds caught his attention; it was faint and wavering, like a flower in a spring wind, but resilient and did not stop. Ignoring the feast, he focused in on it and found an unexplainable peace in the gentle song. He could not make out the words, but he could tell it was a child's tune of some kind; and listening to the balmy voice, he sent a silent prayer to the singer as he relaxed into a well earned sleep.

**So…**** What say you? I'm going to apologise for any typos, because I have a habit of making them constantly, so I beg your forgiveness my friends.**

**Remember, that shiny button is your friend! Lol, and I said I don't write for reviews… sigh**

**Loadsa love, Estel xxx**


	2. A Song of Stars

**Disclaimer****: Is still searching for loophole Ah well, at least I own Lómë… Rómen… Nimlothnen… the Infamous Lullaby… Meh, not too bad I suppose. **

**A/N****: Welcome once more dear readers, into the halls of Thranduil – speaking of which, I just want to quell any fears that this will be a Nasty-Thranduil fic. I have absolutely no intention of making it so. He just seems quite proud to me is all, so at times he might seems harsh, though his heart's in the right place – or he believes it is **

**I actually cannot believe the lengths of these chapters seem to be consistent… Something of a miracle let me tell you. This is a monster chapter but it won't bite. Well, I consider it a monster chapter I hope you all don't mind. Do mention things like that – I personally can go one way or the other. Though, my computer chair is very uncomfortable, so it's very annoying when I have to sit for a log time to read something, because no matter how good the story is, my backside always goes numb. Not comfortable. **

**Reviewer replies will be taking up resident at the end of every chapter, so get feedback to all you lovely people who take the time to comment! Btw – **

**Nimlothnen**** – White Water Flower**

**There we go… Okay, everyone enjoy!!!**

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**Chapter Two – A Song of Stars**

Legolas took a deep breath to control his rising temper, as his father gazed flatly at him, a stubborn light in the monarch's eyes.

"I have passed my judgement, Legolas; he must leave before sundown tonight!" the King drilled. "It is a problem he has brought upon himself."

"With all due respect father, I must strive to disagree with your decision." Legolas' voice neither rose nor fell, and not once did he allow his stance to become imposing; his words remained clear and steady, made powerful by the sense of injustice behind them.

"Then it is your own time that you are wasting, for I will not use mine so idly."

"Adar, how can you have expected him to know something that most of our own people do not realise?" the Prince asked, this time more softly. "He cannot have known the implications of so simple a request made in all good faith."

"He was insolent!" hissed the King, his own more highly-strung temper not so easy to control. "He stepped completely out of his place"-

"Because you lead him there, Adar," Legolas put in delicately.

"Do not interrupt me." It was an angry statement, made all the angrier by the fact that the King knew his son was right, but his pride would not let him back down. Legolas recognised this, and attempted to find a middle ground where both parties could be contented. He dearly loved his father, but he was the most difficult person in the world at times.

"Forgive me Adar," Legolas inclined his head slightly, "But still I beg you, be not so harsh in your judgement of him. Say not that he must leave by tonight. Give him into my care alone; any misconception on his apart from now on will fall on my head to be dealt with, not yours."

Thranduil sat surveying his child, and despite the fact he was contending wills with him, he could not help to be proud. Legolas had picked up the gentle diplomatic traits from… from her. A fleeting sad smile crossed his face but it was gone in an instant.

"You will take this charge upon yourself, my son?"

The brief shadow on his father's face had not gone amiss on the Prince, and he knew his heart well enough to know why. He was thinking about his mother again – that was the whole reason they were in this sorry mess to begin with; that and his wine cellars.

"By my word, Adar," vowed the Prince.

Thranduil sighed. His son had out done him again. "Very well then, so be it. The mortal may stay. But it would be wise on his part if he did not stray too near to me," he added in warning.

"Thank you, Adar," the Prince nodded his head before turning and leaving the throne room by means of the wide sweeping oaken doors. It was not until he was a good way down the corridor that he let his body relax with relief; Strider did not realise how much of a close run thing that had been.

"Morning your majesty," a familiar voice called, bringing the Prince out of his own thoughts and into the corridor again. Tirmor, a dark haired elf, his family's personal servant for many years now, was heading towards him with a pile of freshly pressed towels in his arms.

"Good morning Tirmor," Legolas smiled back at the elf who had served his father since before he had even been born. "I trust you enjoyed the festivities last night?"

"Immensely my lord," he grinned, pausing at his Prince's side. "It is good to have you safely within our own boundaries again though, I must say. These are strange times."

"I would not call it safe here with Rómen around," winked Legolas, "I fear he is what makes these times so odd!" Tirmor laughed.

"Nay, we are all the more safe for his presence my lord. He has kept the borders during your absence."

"Better than I could, I don't doubt; though he would never admit to that, would he?"

Tirmor laughed again before moving off. "You are each as bad as the other," he called as he left, "Though Rómen at least would be proud of that!"

Legolas rolled his eyes as he walked away. "And I am mildly insulted by it!" The sound of the elf's laughed reached his ears one more time before he twisted and turned through the hallways to Estel's room to bring the good news.

Elladan and Elrohir sat at the foot of Estel's bed, both holding their heads in their hands as their younger brother sat crossed-legged and miserably before them.

"What am I going to do?" he moaned. The twins' eyes closed and a spasm of pain flew across their fair identical features.

"Do – not – talk –"

"- So – loud," whispered Elrohir, finishing his brother's sentence, the pair of them speaking the words as though it were a great effort.

"I think that perhaps my current situation is more important than yours!" Estel hissed, though his voice did drop. "You drank yourselves to this!"

"Oh be quiet Ada…" Elladan mumbled and Estel smirked at him.

"There is no point fretting yet, Estel," groaned Elrohir softly, easing himself down so his head on was on his twin's lap. "We will not know anything for sure until Legolas comes back."

"What exactly is King Thranduil accusing you of?" murmured Elladan, his free hand coming to rest absently on his brother's hair.

"I – well – I'm not sure," Estel admitted.

"Well then, let's start with what you did," suggested Elrohir quietly. Elladan loved the way his brother could always find a simple and uncomplicated way of explaining things, the way he was always understanding and giving.

"I was with Legolas, talking to the King – the music started up again and we were going to leave to dance – and I asked the King if he would care to join us is all," Estel concluded glumly. Other than perhaps being a little over bold, he could not see of any reason why King Thranduil would literally want him thrown out of Mirkwood!

"Ahh," nodded the twins uniformly understanding and then fell silent. Estel found it enraging.

"What?" he asked hotly, to be shot down by annoyed hisses again.

"Not – so – loud!"

"Sorry," he whispered as loud as he could so as to get on their nerves. "Are you going to explain yourselves?"

"Not if you act childishly," replied Elladan grumpily.

"Dan…" Elrohir lightly hit his brother's chest. "There is a valid reason Estel."

"We just don't know if we have the right to tell it to you," added Elladan, earnestly this time.

"What do you mean?" inquired the young Ranger bemused.

"It concerns Legolas' mother," Elrohir told him even more quietly, as though not to offend anyone by saying it too loud – and considering his younger brother's position, his justification was well founded.

"And events that happened long ago," the elder twin elucidated.

Silence fell again. Estel was getting impatient, he wanted to know why he was in this situation he was in.

"Care to expand?" Estel tried softly. The twins sighed in unison.

"Nimlothnen was the Queen of Mirkwood, Thranduil's wife and Legolas' mother," Elrohir began a brief explanation, "While Legolas was still a small elfling, she was captured by Orcs. They never found her body."

Estel fell suddenly still and silent, his curiosity diminished, and he became quite ashamed of it.

"They say the King has never danced since," concluded Elladan sadly. "Some tried I think, once, but…" he trailed off.

"So I have brought all this pain back," Estel sighed moodily, his chin resting heavily on the palms of his hands. Brilliant, he thought; now he wasn't even back where he had started – he was further back, because he felt even worse than he had done before.

"No Estel, do not blame yourself," Elladan assured him. "You have just… stirred up a few memories is all."

"The King of Mirkwood is a proud one, Estel," Elrohir put in, "Good, but proud. Do not forget it."

Elladan looked down at his twin confused. "That's not like you," he wondered out loud.

"What do you mean?" Elrohir asked frowning, but stopped when it hurt too much.

"Normally you are lovely about everyone," shrugged Elladan, regretting it at once as his neck and shoulders screamed at him.

"I am not," retorted Elrohir. "I speak only the truth and what I see."

"You do tend to look for the good in people," Estel put in unhelpfully. Had it not hurt his eyes, Elrohir would have glared at him.

"I wish Ada were here," he muttered to himself.

"Me too," agreed Estel. "He would know what to do."

"Actually I was thinking more that he could cure this headache with herbs and by locking you away," he grinned mischievously. Elladan smirked with him and Estel stuck out his tongue immaturely.

A soft rapping come from the door.

"Come in!" Estel called.

"Not – so – loud!" the twins hissed together.

The young man grinned apologetically at them but the smile vanished as Legolas stepped lightly into the Ranger's room, and was replaced by an anxious gaze as he felt his insides lurch.

"Well? What did he say?" he enquired nervously. "Must I be gone by nightfall? What did he say?"

"Peace, peace my friend," smiled the golden haired Prince, holding up his hands. "You need not worry yourself."

At once, Estel relaxed a bit and allowed himself to breath again. "So it is well?"

"It will not be, if you two do not keep your voices down!" Elladan mumbled grumpily.

"Are you ill then, Elladan?" Legolas asked innocently. Estel sniggered, knowing the question was anything but.

"No we are not, thank you very much," Elrohir moaned painfully.

"Do you wish for me to retrieve something for the pain?" Legolas offered in honesty this time.

"Hang on – they can wait!" said Estel, put out. This time the twins did not waste energy on words, but summoned all their strength to bombard him with two feather pillows. The fully stuffed cases hit him square in the face and knocked him back onto the bed. When he came up again, white downy feathers were sticking out of his dark wayward hair and mouth. The twins sniggered this time.

"Oh ha ha," he drawled sarcastically, brushing them away. Legolas suppressed a smile forming as he rose to his feet again.

"Wait – where are you going?" Estel whispered fiercely, so as not to rouse the wrath of his brothers once more.

"To fetch them some pain relief, or find someone else who can," he explained, poking his head out of the door.

"Can you relieve me of _them_? I'm in pain," grumbled the Ranger. This remark was countered with yet another pillow, sending him back down onto the bed.

"Nicely aimed brother," Elrohir complimented. Estel just glowered at them.

"Ah! Tirmor, just the person," Legolas' voice sounded out in the corridor. The dark haired elf, who had been passing by on his way to the King's chambers, paused mid-step to turn to the Prince.

"Yes your majesty?"

"Could you please bring some pain easing herbs to these rooms, as well as a bowl of steaming water and two mugs of jasmine tea?" he requested. He did not like to order his subjects around, Prince or not.

"Certainly my lord, they shall be with you soon."

"Thank you Tirmor." With a grateful smile, Legolas pulled himself back into the room and closed the door, turning to face Estel who was pulling faces at his brother's.

"Strider," he asked in a pained voice as the door clicked, "Exactly how old are you?"

"Old enough to know better," mumbled Elladan.

"Young enough not to care!" grinned the young man, looking ridiculous with glossy white feather's standing out starkly against his dark hair.

Elladan just shook his head in mock disgust; for of course, he loved both of his brothers dearly – even if at times the youngest made him feel as though he could be driven to murder.

"I do not believe I shall ever understand why I continue to put up with you," he jested lightly, taking a chair by the bedside and sitting down in a dignified manner compared to the sons of Elrond.

"So will you tell me now, what your father's decision was?" Estel sobered quickly, though he did not feel the twist in his guts of worry as he had done before.

"You may stay within Mirkwood," Legolas said, and despite already knowing it, Estel felt a wave of relief at having heard it confirmed. "However –"

"What do you mean, 'however'?" Estel said sharply. Legolas looked at him pointedly.

"If you allow me to speak, I shall proceed to tell you."

Estel fell silent, his cheeks slightly pink.

"My father was decided in his choice to have you taken from the Kingdom – however, I did manage to soften the blow very much, so that it hopefully should not affect you any more."

Estel waited in silence, no longer asked stupid questions. Legolas went on.

"I told him you would be under my guard; anything you do will fall to me to make right."

"Not much change there then," Estel grinned.

"No indeed," his friend grinned back, his blue eyes twinkling.

"I would advise that you avoid my father as much as you can – do not go out of your way to see or speak to him certainly," Legolas counselled, "At least not for a while. His mood will calm with time, I know it."

Estel understood this perfectly, and was resisting the urge to throw his arms around the Prince's neck in gratitude, but decided against it.

"This therefore means that for today especially, we should find ourselves something to do," the Prince finished, his gaze moving between all three brothers.

"Legolas, you have an intelligent head on your shoulders. If you honestly believe that we are moving, then we all are doomed," whispered Elrohir.

"Yes, I thought you might be of that mind," laughed Legolas. "So it looks as though it's just you and I, Estel."

"Lord save us…" the Ranger winked.

"Ah, ah, ah, you must be polite to me from now on," Legolas warned waggling a slender finger, his eyes glinting brilliantly. "You are in my Kingdom, and I have already gotten you out of trouble after less than a day."

"He's right you know," Elladan commented.

"How annoying…" Estel breathed. "So what are we to do?"

"I wish to check the boundaries, and see how they have held up in my absence. Rómen says I have nothing to worry about, but I would rather see for myself – especially as it was he who has held them," he added playfully.

"Hear that brother? First day back at home and he wants to check well guarded perimeters already," Elladan nudged his twin. Elrohir's eyes were shut, but a smile crept across his face.

"That sounds like Legolas," he murmured.

"Lunacy," agreed Elladan. The Prince shook his head and decided it wasn't worth replying to.

"So now that you have eaten," Legolas continued, looking with mild disdain at the heaped up plates and bowls licked entirely clean of food on the table, "I suggest that we get ourselves ready. We shall be out all day I think, so I shall have some supplies made ready for us."

"Do not forget to take half of the medical supplies you have," Elladan reminded him, "I bet you two could stay within the grounds and get injured…" Elrohir snickered quietly.

"I am perfectly capable of handling myself within my own home," said Legolas, lifting his chin and sitting even straighter.

"If you are as capable as Estel in Rivendell, I would suggest you take Rómen with you – just in case," the younger twin grinned cheekily.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Poor Estel," he said sadly, "You never stood a chance, did you my friend?"

Estel shook his head remorsefully. "It was a hopeless case, mellon nin."

A soft knock at the door came the second time that morning.

"Tirmor with the herbs you requested, your majesty," the elf called to them.

"Enter!" Legolas granted, and the door swung open. Tirmor stood there with a silver tray, upon which a bowl of steaming water sat, as well as a green china pot and two cups. Legolas moved his chair out of the way and cleared the used dishes so that Tirmor could set the tray down on the table behind him.

"Would you like me to take those my lord?" Tirmor gestured to the plates in the Prince's hands.

"No thank you, I am heading down there now anyway."

"Very well; good day my lords," Tirmor inclined his head respectfully, and then exited the room. Elladan sniffed hopefully at the tea.

"Could you pour us some Estel?" the elder twin asked.

"Not until you apologise," Estel replied, relishing the power. Elladan glared sourly at him.

"Just do it Dan…" Elrohir murmured.

Eye twitching, Elladan mumbled a phrase that sounded like, "I am sorry Estel," though it could easily have been, "You act like a girl." No one was quite sure.

"While you sort out your brothers, I am going to organise today," the Prince informed the Ranger. "I shall meet you by the orchard in about twenty minutes, my friend."

With a sympathetic look at the twins, he slid from the room to ready himself.

Estel took the bundle of soothing herbs he had not seen before from the tray, and crushed them a bit before dropping them in the steaming water. At once, a balmy smell wafted around the room. Elrohir smiled.

"There's about enough tea here for two cups each," Estel informed them, peering into the teapot. "I suggest you have it while it's hot, or at least warm."

"Thank you Ada," grinned Elladan. Estel smirked at him, but poured the tea and handed the cups over to his brothers. Elrohir sat gingerly up to receive his as the young man took up his pack and began to search around for something on the floor. After a few moments he frowned a little, looking confused, and then the confusion cleared up.

"I will see you both later," he said, throwing his pack over his shoulder, "Do try and recover some, won't you?"

"Oh well, if us being ill troubles you so much, we may think to keep it up," Elrohir muttered.

"Seeing as how we both enjoy it so," Elladan added sarcastically.

Estel rolled his eyes at them before leaving the room and entering the empty corridor. The pathway on his left led to the orchards, but he first had something to fetch, so he turned right. When they had first arrived, Legolas had allowed him to leave his sword and short bow and quiver in a side room from his own chambers. He had meant to collect them before the feast, but with all the bustle of last minutes preparation he hadn't had the chance, and it had slipped his mind.

So now he made his way up a flight of stairs towards the Prince's chambers, listening all the time for approaching footsteps as he knew all too well the King's chambers were also close by, and a run in with him now was definitely not what he wanted. So he moved quickly and as quietly as he could, though inevitably the muffled mortal footfalls of his leather boots echoed slightly off of the carved stone walls.

It was one thing that amazed Estel about the Elves of Mirkwood. All the elves he had ever known all hated to be locked up and encased – Rivendell was a testimony to that, its design made to flow with nature, all very open and spacious with glassless windows and high light wooden ceilings. Here though, the Palace of Mirkwood was built of all places, under the ground! It was not below ground level as such, being cut into the rising mountains so that windows looked out and down onto the forest below. All the same, it was within rock, one substance that the elves found little joy in. Yet when he had been a little boy, Elrond had used to tell him stories of the great hidden city of Gondolin, and of the great Cave Palaces of Nargothrond and Doriath. He could only suppose that this cavernous castle was a way of remembering their long lost creations and the magnificence of Beleriand.

All at once it seemed, Estel was outside Legolas' chamber, though he was not entirely sure how he had made it quite so quickly. With a quick nudge he found the door to be unlocked (something he was grateful for, as he didn't know exactly what he would do had it been locked) and went inside.

As bed chambers went, it was a spectacular bed chamber. A four posted bed made of huge heavy dark-stained wood and hung with velvet green curtains stood proudly to his side, the velvet moving slightly in the breeze coming in through the open balcony doors. A thick rug was thrown over the floor before a great fire grate, where the embers of last nights fire still glowed contentedly. Trinkets, books and gifts of all kinds were all around the room, not helter-skelter but each placed specifically in its own way to add to the over all admirable effect of the room. Two doors led off from the main sleeping area; one Estel knew to be a spare room of sorts, almost a quiet living room or study, and this was where his weapons were located.

Moving swiftly across the space he pushed this door open to find the study much as it had been last night. A writing desk took pride of place in the centre, littered with scrolls and quills, and though Legolas had assured him it _was_ all placed in an orderly fashion Estel had hidden his smile. All around the walls were bookcases filled with some handsome volumes, these less used than the ones in the sleeping area. There was a recliner also, that was near a large window, where one could sit and watch the world, lost in thought; and it was leaning against this that Strider found his sword and bow. Gladly buckling his belt and making sure his sword was secure in its sheath, he picked up bow and full quiver and made the left the room, putting them on as he went.

As he reached the main door, Estel strapped his quiver to his back and turned to leave the room when the faintest of sounds caught his attention. He stopped still and frowned, trying to focus in on it. It wavered and altered in tempo, but now and then he swore he could catch the briefest of word. A memory stirred within him, and he recognised it as the same lullaby he had heard the night before, though the words were clearer this time, and snatches of them drifted to his ears. It was a song, a lullaby, about the stars. Attempting to locate it, he moved as silently as he could to the doorway and stuck his head through – his left; it was coming from his left, floating down as if from a height. Yet just as he stepped out to find its source, the singing stopped; but the most delicate of fragrances wafted through the air, of water and sweet lilies.

He froze, gazing intently down the corridor from where the sounds and smells were coming. He stepped out and towards its timidly, his bow slung over his back, and the singing started again, ever so slightly louder this time, though he still could not hear it all.

"_See the white stars shining now… See them shining clear and bright… Fair lady…"_

The tune mesmerised the Ranger, even if he couldn't hear all of the words; it was one of those tunes that once you had heard it you would never need to be taught it again. It gently infiltrated the mind, winding its way around the thoughts until everything about you was calm. All the while, the soft smell of lilies continues to waft towards him… He took another hesitant step, and heard now a beautiful laughter accompanying the lullaby and a child's delighted squeals… Another step…

"Estel!"

A clear voice shattered the balmy world the young man had been pulled into, and at once the singing and laughter stopped, and the perfume vanished. He shook his head, for without realising it eyes had become heavy with sleep.

"Estel, what are you doing?" The voice was familiar… Estel turned to see Lómë coming towards him, looking slightly concerned.

"Mmn?" he asked absently.

"I asked you what you were doing, my dear," she said gently. As she looked into the Ranger's eyes, she couldn't help but to notice that he didn't look quite with it.

"I – I… I was collecting my sword and bow. From Legolas' room," Estel explained, his mind beginning to kick into a faster gear again. "I left them there yesterday when we first arrived."

"Oh, I see." She still wasn't sure the young man was entirely well. "Are you alright Estel?"

"Me? Yes, I'm fine, why do you ask?" he wondered, for now that he was talking to her and the song was gone, he felt perfectly awake again.

"No reason, no reason at all," she assured him. His eyes had lost the wandering, distant look they had held moments ago, and she shook herself mentally, believing she was worrying about nothing. "Where are you off to then, that you'll be needing your weapons?"

"Legolas wishes to check the boundaries now that he is back, and I said I would accompany him."

"Of course – well I had better not keep you then," she smiled, stepping aside to let him pass. "Keep safe Estel, and look after that Prince of ours."

"I will, on both accounts," he grinned, and wishing her a good day headed back along the corridor out towards the orchard.

Legolas lounged against the old gnarled apple tree, his bow resting in his hands. The tree had been there for a long, long time, almost as long as he could remember – his mother had used to help him climb it when he was little, and would clap him proudly from the ground as each time he climbed higher…. He sighed and the memory faded. He had always liked this tree. It sang to him like all the others, but it sang a slow, plodding song; not mournful, but good for thinking to. So he called it the Old Thinking Tree.

Not that he was thinking now, as such. He was waiting for Estel to make his appearance, and the Old Thinking Tree had a comfortable hollow in between its ancient roots that was cushioned with leaves of long past autumns, and it was here that he now sat patiently, just listening to the tree singing to him. Its rough and cracked bark seemed comforting to the Prince, the same as it had always been, and the low moaning of the wind through the boughs was like whispering, though there were no words. It was his one of his favourite places in Mirkwood.

"Legolas!" The familiar voice of his friend called to him form across the orchard, and he opened eyes to watch the Ranger approach.

"You finally made it then," he jested lightly.

"Better late than never," Aragorn winked back. The Prince laughed.

"Come then my friend; let us see what damage Rómen as caused while I have been away."

They walked for a while in comfortable silence, Estel taking his new surroundings in with wonder, Legolas with memories, most of which included either Rómen or Lómë, or both. When they had left the orchard behind and were walking on a well worn forest track, Estel began to hum distractedly. He didn't even pay attention to what he was humming, he just produced random notes.

Legolas frowned at him.

"What is that tune, mellon nin?" he asked. Estel stopped and looked up at the golden elf he was following.

"Sorry?"

"That tune you were humming. Where did you learn it?"

"I was humming?" Estel looked bewildered. "I didn't even realise. Sorry, was it bothering you?"

"No – no of course not. Never mind," Legolas brushed it off and carried on walking, and Estel did not hum again.

By midday, they had reached one of the main lookout points on the southern border. It was no more than a half hidden flet constructed high up within a huge and ancient yew tree, its dark red colour bark so wide in girth that Estel was sure thirty grown men could not all stand linking hands around it.

"We will stop for a rest up there," Legolas pointed. Estel stared at him incredulously.

"Legolas, my friend, you might be able to get up there, but as flattering as the notion is, I will never make it," Estel grinned at him.

"Of course you will – look, follow me." Doubting it very much, Estel walked around to the back of the tree, where a light silver rope ladder hung down form the flet, ready to be climbed. The Prince gave him a look that said, 'I told you so.'

"Very well then – if climb we must, then climb I will!" From where he stood, he didn't think it would take that long.

Half an hour later, Estel was cursing himself about misjudging heights. Legolas had gone ahead of him and was already above on the flet, preparing a light meal while he slaved away up the ladder, forcing his aching knees to work. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of torture and just when he felt as though he could go no further and was considering the prospect of just letting go, he suddenly climbed up through the flet.

Legolas grinned at him. "Hello stranger."

Aragorn glared at him, but did not have the strength yet to retort. Instead, he hauled himself up and lay flat on his back gasping for breath, his legs almost singing with the exaltation of doing nothing.

"You do this… often?" he managed to squeeze out between breaths.

"You get used to it after a while," Legolas assured him. Secretly, Estel hoped he wouldn't have to.

Legolas pushed a wafer of lembas bread to him, as well as a small leather pouch of berries. "Eat up," he encouraged, "We've got work to do."

Estel just glared at him, which set the Prince off laughing, which made Estel glare even more.

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

"You my friend!" Legolas chuckled, "Anybody would have thought you had just run a marathon!"

Damned infectious elf, Estel decided as he too began to chuckle. "Well I did – I just climbed it upwards instead of on the flat is all."

Legolas rolled his eyes and went back to fletching an arrow to precision. Presently, Estel regained enough breath to eat and descended upon the lembas and fruit. As he ate, he began to hum absently to himself again. Legolas lookup sharply up, his hand slipping on the arrow but Estel seemed not to have noticed. The tune was clear and undeniable – there was no way he could fail to recognise it. He had to know.

"Estel?" he asked apprehensively. "You are humming again."

"Am I?" questioned the ranger, looking confused. "Isn't it strange that I don't even realise?"

"Mmn." Legolas nodded in agreement, but silently he had a more pressing question on his mind. He knew it was probably nothing, just a coincidence – but then that was impossible. "Are you sure you don't know what the tune is? Or where it comes from?"

The Ranger shrugged. "I can't think of – no hang on. I did hear a lullaby this morning, but"-

"A what?" Legolas cut in sharply again.

"A child's lullaby. At least, I assume it was."

"That's impossible."

All at once, Estel noticed that Legolas had become completely rigid, all of his attention focused solely on the young man before and sensed that something was wrong. Oh brilliant, the Ranger thought, what have I said now? "It's impossible," the elf repeated.

"Why? I heard the child laughing Legolas, it makes sense"-

"No, my friend, it doesn't. There hasn't been a child born in Mirkwood for five hundred years."

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**Wow. Monster chapter. And yes, my backside is numb from sitting and writing all of that But hey! I enjoyed it – the writing of course!**

**So what say you?**

**Open thy minds unto me, that I might improve mineself! ******** officially a new word.**

**Reviewer Replies:**

**Star-Stallion**** - blushes Yay! Lol glad you like it – surprising enough, I'm really enjoying writing it too; this being a surprise as I usually get bored writing Legolas/Estel fics – just like reading them! Here's to hoping I don't get bored with this one… Wills self to finish**

**sielge**** – Heya! Glad you enjoyed it, and here you go, second chapter. Enjoy!**

**aknightofni**** – Thank you! Lol yes, poor Estel – but this is just the tip of the iceburg my friend… Enjoy!**

**viggomaniac**** – There is absolutely nothing wrong with being obsessed with Aragorn fics. Nor ****Hidalgo**** Fanfiction.**** bows to ****Hidalgo**** Didn't you just love that film? Hope you enjoy this.**

**HarryEstel**** – Heya! Glad you like it – lol poor Estel, but Thranduil may turn out to be the least of his problems… May be… not sure…**

**Estel: WHAT?! You're the writer! How can you not know?!**

**Moi****: Hey, do you want to survive this fic unscathed?**

**Estel: Yes, but with you in charge, what are the chances of that happening?**

**Moi****:…******

**Estel: Point made.**

**Lol, hope you enjoy this!**

**Someone Reading**** – Firstly, thank you for spotting that mistake! It was a test of course… My mind jumps ahead of my hands sometimes. And as I have said, have no fear, no evil Thranduil here! Enjoy!**

**Mellaithwen**** – Yo girl! Yay! is glad Lol yes, well every gets merry sometimes don't they? Looks like the twins have paid the price though! As for the day out… Mmn… If I get them out, you can loan them, but they'll be mine, MINE I SAY!!! **

**moonshine44**** – Thank you! Enjoy.**

**Lindele**** – Lol thank you – and look, and update just for you Enjoy!**

**Joshua Nenya**** – Heya, thanks! Nice person! is happy Wow, cool ****Germany**** – I would talk to you in German but its not my greatest subject, and I'll probably end up accidentally insulting you :s so I'll stick to English Lol thanks for reviewing, enjoy!**

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**Loadsa love, Estel xxx**


	3. Blood is Thicker than Water

**Disclaimer:**** Woohoooooo!!!!!! I may not have found a loophole _yet_, buuuutttt I have got a box of Malteasers and a book signed by Alan Lee and John Howe! Oh I'm _good_…**

**A/N: ****I'm sorry this has taken longer than I anticipated! I went on a Geography fieldtrip, which messed things up a little, but here I am back and bubbly. Not much to not here other than-**

**- Don't worry if the poem doesn't make much sense yet. It will do in later chapters; I was trying to set a clue to see if any one would pick up.**

**- I would also like to apologise for the huge bulk of the last chapter. The little stars and wiggly lines went on strike. Grrr… So I've found another way of dividing this chapter, have no fear!!! **

**Well I think that's it for now – reviewer replies at the end! Enjoy!**

**----**

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**Chapter Three – Blood is Thicker than Water**

_'I listen to the stars in the indigo sky;_

_I listen to the cosmos twinkle and twirl;_

_I listen to the star dust, like water falling;_

_And I listen to the silver moon streams dance and swirl._

_But when I speak, no one listens to me.'_

**_-- Estel_**

It was night. The white stars twinkled brilliantly in the velvety indigo sky, thousands of pinpricked silver gleams forever out of reach. There was a cool wind running swiftly through the trees, their boughs swaying hypnotically in its wake as it swept into the grounds of Mirkwood's palace. All was silent here; soft lanterns sent forth shafts of grey light between the young birch and ash trees, and the guards at the main gate sat quietly, spears leaning against the walls of their small night huts. In the palace, a few fires burnt low and embers glowed fiery red as the occupants of the rooms slept peacefully on, unaware of the two unmoving figures outside.

The wind flowed around them, tossing golden hair up in a twirling breeze. They were in a secluded garden, not walled, but surrounded by a fencing of trees so tight that nothing could be seen through them. There were gravel walkways between beds of white flowers of all kinds that would bloom at this time of year, but the central feature was a fountain carved of marble. The water tumbled over the edges down into the little pool, and the surface was almost entirely covered with lily pads, a carpet of rich emerald green. No pearly white rose tinted petals sat elegantly upon their gemlike cushions, for it was late in the year and the lily's had been and gone. Still though, their remnants were left upon the pads like distant memories and already, shoots had gone into slumber, preparing for the new spring.

Still, the two figures remained silent, seated side by side upon a stone bench beneath an empty blossom tree. To pairs of piercing blue eyes watched as the gusts ruffled the pads and the water, though the fountain never paused or stopped in its mellow music.

They did not speak. They sat, one wrapped in a cloak, the other in flowing robes, though neither felt any of the biting cold of autumn. A crown of old leaves lay flustered on one of the heads, the berries grown sullen and shrunken. It would be time for a new one soon, he guessed absently.

The other figure breathed heavily, his chest rising high and falling low, before asking the same question he asked every time they came here.

"The lilies will return won't they?" The voice was quiet, unwilling almost to break the blanketed silence between them.

He received the same answer he always did.

"No my son; they are gone now."

For a few more minutes, there was again silence and stillness between them. Then the cloaked figure rose to its feet, and kissed the other lightly on the forehead, before turned swiftly from the hidden garden and merging into the shadow of the trees. The second remained a while longer, frowning hard at the pool. Eventually, he too departed without a sound, the folds of his robes whistling through the long grass.

The garden was left empty and the fountain continued to sing.

--------

It was almost a week since the twins had first awoken with such mind-numbing and excruciating pains (for all parties involved) and to the relief of everyone they had made a full and healthy recovery – though both felt disinclined to wine for a good while longer. Having confined themselves to their rooms for the better part of three days, they now made up for it. They had accompanied Legolas and Estel on their last two trips to the borders, until the Prince was entirely contented with how they were holding up – something Rómen found mildly insulting.

"You are not the only one in Mirkwood capable of maintaining border patrol Legolas," he had commented with a look of hurt on his face. Legolas' sympathy had lasted until he discovered the Captain of the Royal Guard stick his tongue out at his back behind his back. He made a mental note to check the palace security too.

But after a week back in his home, he was finally convinced that everything was running smoothly despite his prolonged absence, and would have begun to relax – had it not been for the incident with Estel. It had been six days now since that early afternoon, and neither had spoken of it. Legolas could tell that Estel was confused, but also that he was waiting for _him_ to speak first. That at least was some consolation, knowing the subject would not be brought up unless he chose to himself and that was not high on his list of priorities. The longer he left it, the staler it would become and the more likely it would be that Estel would forget. So he pushed it to the back of his mind, and went on enjoying being home again.

His father too seemed to have had his spirits lifted since his only child's return from the wilderness. Three years was not counted a long time among the elves, but he could not deny to himself that he had sorely missed his son's presence, even if at times there views clashed – such as about the Ranger. He was satisfied to note that the young man seemed nearly to make an effort to stay out of his way. This thought not only entertained him but pleased him too; so long as he was not in his way, he could not anger him. And that, after all, had been Legolas' intent in the first place.

It was late afternoon now though, and after much pushing and pleading, blackmail and bantering, Estel and the twins had managed to drag the Prince out into the orchard to relax. They had met Rómen on the way out and he had joined them on the condition that Legolas should not once mention his duties, nor should he 'scarper to fulfil them.'

"I do not scarper!" Legolas said indignantly, as he was physically led out with a twin on either arm.

"Not yet you haven't," Rómen muttered under his breath to Estel, perfectly aware his friend could still hear him. Estel sniggered but stopped when Legolas sent him a withering look.

They had run into Lómë as well, but she was in the middle of a cleaning scourge in the upper levels of the palace.

"I would so like to join you," she sighed, "But those windows really cannot wait any longer. You all go and enjoy yourselves."

"Of course," Rómen said knowingly, nodding his head as they turned around the corner, "Window cleaning is a far more exciting pastime than relaxing. I should have known."

"Are you not meant to be on duty yourself, Rómen?" Legolas asked sceptically, trying to find a scapegoat.

"Not this afternoon – I have left Fëaros in charge."

"Eru save us all," Legolas sighed, rolling his eyes and admitting defeat.

"Really my liege, he is not that bad."

"It was not Fëaros I was speaking of," Legolas replied pointedly, to which Rómen just grinned.

Now in the shade of the ancient trees in the orchard, he had to confess he was indeed relaxing. It was a clear and crisp autumn day; the type that started frozen and hard with a frosty blue sky, and warmed only a little as the day ended, so that their breath still rose mistily before them. The elves made light of this, but Estel wore an extra shirt and thick trousers and socks to keep out the cold, as well as a pair of woollen gloves. Elladan commented that he looked about twice as round as normal, but Elrohir assured him it was Mirkwood's rich food. Estel had just scowled, his cheeks and nose rosy red.

They all sat or lay down for there had not been rainfall and the ground was not muddy, and though solid with the heavy night frosts, the falling blanket of orange and brown leaves that renewed itself day kept the worst of the stiffness from them.

For a while, none of them spoke, but quietly drank in their surroundings, the serene stillness broken only by the wind rustling in the trees and the occasional sniff from Estel as his nose ran.

"Is it a common fault amongst mortals to forever be _complaining_?" Rómen whined after the fifth or sixth sniff.

"Alas, to be sure," Elladan nodded.

"I am not complaining!" Estel defended himself frowning.

"The cold makes them grouchy as well," Elrohir put in.

"Just because you can't feel the cold…" the young human muttered into his arms wrapped tightly around his legs.

"Thank Ilúvatar," Legolas added uncharacteristically.

"Mores the pity," Estel growled, taking another sniff and wishing that he'd brought his scarf out with him. "One day, I would like to see you catch a cold, and then you'll know how I suffer…"

"Oh, so now it _is_ complaining?" Rómen jested. Estel glared.

"You think this is bad my friend?" Legolas shook head in despair. "You have not seen him after a fight with some Orcs."

"Nor do I want to I fear," Rómen grimaced, "Blood makes me queasy."

"You're one to talk!" Estel shot back at the Prince; then to Rómen added, "But you're the Captain of the Guard?!"

Rómen gave him the look one would often give a child when they have not understood something simple.

"Oh be quiet…" the Ranger mumbled.

"He did not actually speak little brother," Elladan pointed out.

"A picture speaks a thousand words," Aragorn told him, rolling his eyes.

Elrohir snorted, surveying the Captain. "Does not look like a picture to me…"

Rómen threw a handful of leaves at him, throwing them in his mouth. The other four roared with laughter as the younger twin spat and spluttered out soggy bits of brown and dusty red.

"Rómen!" he coughed agitatedly and skilfully countered the attack with a flimsy fallen twig. It caught the blonde elf square on the forehead, leaving a proud red mark; but Elrohir had no chance for celebration, for no sooner had he opened his mouth to cheer did another fistful of leaves from hurtling his way.

And so within a matter of seconds, it turned into a fully fledged fight – one that would afterward be known as the Battle with Leaves in the Mouth and Twigs in the Hair.

Estel and Elladan quickly joined their brother's side, scooping up big bunches of leaves in their arms and making a small fort behind the tree to defend themselves, while Prince Legolas was dragged unceremoniously to his feet by his Captain and had an armful of ammunition stuffed onto him.

The Battle itself lasted no more than five minutes; the warriors of Mirkwood were strong but outnumbered, and before long, their hair askew with small branches and framed with rotting leaves, they were taken as the prisoners of the Noldor elves and the Ranger. They themselves had suffered little behind their leaven fortress, save for Estel who now wore a frail twig with three determined leaves clinging to the end like feathers upright in his hair. No one, enemy or comrade, saw fit to tell him.

"You cheated," Rómen stated stubbornly, a lone leaf fluttering down his face.

"Oh I beg to differ, Captain," laughed Elladan, "You were beaten fair and square!"

"How can you call it fair when you had an extra member?" he protested, "One of you should have joined us!"

"I'm afraid blood is thicker than water, Rómen," Elrohir winked, and even after all his years of living with them, Estel still felt a surge of pride when he said it.

"Oh Estel doesn't really count," Legolas winked and for a moment the war threatened to start up again, until Rómen cut in with, "What made you think I was talking about Estel?"

The teasing and mockery continued well into late afternoon and early evening, when the clear skies were a deep twilight to the east and a pale sapphire to the west, and though the elves were loath to go inside, Estel felt as though the cold of night would seep into his very bones and convinced them otherwise.

The warmth of the indoor fires hit him like a stinging salted wound and set his skin aflame with a searing tingling sensation. Sighing, Estel ignored it as best he could, knowing that it would pass soon enough. Rómen left them in the main hall to take the corridor down to the Guard Chambers to relieve Fëaros of duty, leaving the others to make their way up to their own rooms. The hot tingling was just fading from Estel's fingertips and he was almost dreaming about a steaming hot bath when he entered the bathing chamber to find Lómë hard at work on the windows.

"Good evening Estel!" she greeted him cheerfully, not noticing the devastated look on his face. "How was your day?"

"It – oh, it was brilliant," Estel stuttered, trying to keep the disappointed tone from his voice. "Yourself?"

"I have attacked these windows like none before me I fear," she winked. "But the difference is plain to see. Do you not agree?"

In all honesty, no, I can't see any bloody difference, Estel thought stubbornly, but was ashamed almost at once. Also, his father had taught him at a young age not to stir the wrath of a maiden.

"It looks really good Lómë, you have done yourself proud." The golden haired elf beamed at him. "How long have you been at it?"

"Oh, I've been all over the castle," she explained, "I started in here not long ago. I do not suppose I shall be finished before dinner, but I would rather get it done than leave it unfinished."

Estel nodded politely, forcing a smile to his face. "You work yourself too hard, my lady."

"That is just what my brother says. Honestly, you males…"

Estel laughed and turned to leave. "Then I shall not keep you my lady – but promise me you will not miss your meal merely _clean_."

"You have my word, Estel," she smiled, as he dragged his feet heavily up the steps and left the room.

He wandered down the halls, pondering where he should go; his own rooms were lonely and his brother's had already claimed the two other bathing rooms on this level… Giving into defeat, he sighed heavily and started for the Prince's chamber. Legolas had said something about having a few things to do before dinner, so maybe he could help him while he waited.

He knocked softly at the wooden door, awaiting a distracted "Enter," before pushing it open.

Legolas was not in the main sleeping chamber, but the small study beside it, leant over the wooden desk, a quill in his hands as he wrote on a piece of crisp parchment.

"Hello Estel," he smiled, as warmly as the fire roaring in the grate behind him. "What can I do for you? I thought you were taking a bath?"

"Yes, well… That would be what you can do for me," Estel sighed, slumping down on the couch by the window. From the mirror like quality it now had, Estel guessed that Lómë had been on her cleaning crusade up here as well.

"I do believe you are old enough to do such things by yourself now, Estel," Legolas grinned, the fire glinting in his eye. Estel rolled his eyes, the urge for warm water stronger than the will to argue.

"I was going to sit here and help you with your tasks," he continued, "But if you are not using your own chambers, I was wondering…"

"They are all yours," Legolas told him firmly, looking back down at the parchment before him.

"Hannon lle, mellon nin," Estel thanked him gratefully, rising once more to his feet, which had suddenly decided to become very sore and tired. "A bath is definitely what I need…"

"Yes, I can smell as much," Legolas commented, not looking up from the parchment. Estel grinned and flicked his head as he went past, sending two or three crinkled leaves floating to the table from where they had been hidden in folds of gold.

"You should find it already there; I think Tirmor ran it for me, but your need is greater than my own I think," the Prince said, pushing the leaves from his work space and ruffling his hair to loosen any more. He sighed as small forest collected by his feet.

After hurrying (well, making an effort to move fast than normal, at least) to get his towels and a change of clothing, Estel made his way back past his friend's closed door and went left along the corridor to where he found a small flight of six steps. At the top the corridor widened out to make a landing of sorts, and the hallway split into two. The one to his right carried on upwards into one of the many palace turrets, and the one to the left went on for a short way until it came to a dead end, a balcony that over looked the orchard. There were three doors on one side of the hall and two on the other, and Estel turned the handle of the second on the right, having been told by the Prince before he'd left him.

It was a handsome thing for a bathroom; the young Ranger had to admit it. The floor was light marble, flecked with green and shards of black, and the walls the same. In fact, everything was light and clean, stifled by an almost dreaming like quality as steam from the bath in the centre drifted lazily about the room. It parted like mist where he went, and closed up hungrily behind him. At once, he began to feel the cold in his bones dispense and could not begin to find enough praise for Legolas. Ah, this was it…

He piled his towels on a small bench and quickly stripped down out of his clothes, leaving them in a pile under it. He had just started for the bath when as an after thought he locked the door with a satisfying _click_. There was no harm in playing it safe. Convinced that now no one could walk in unsuspecting (or pre-meditated come to that), he took swift steps to the bath. It was not a large metal tub, like those in the lower floors; no, this was a small pool, a hollow in the floor six feet in diameter, full almost to the brim with steaming hot water. Estel touched it timidly with his toe, quite aware of how ridiculous he looked – stark naked, his foot held just above the water – but found the temperature to be nothing less than heaven sent. With a contented sigh, he slipped into the water, finding that in the centre it came up to his waste, but that around the side a subterranean bench gave him something to sit on, and the level came to just beneath his chin.

Spreading his arms about the rim, he sat and closed his eyes, lingering on the edge of a doze in the blissful heat. He could stay like this for eternity, in peaceful silence…

… That's when the lullaby started again. At first, he didn't even notice; it was as soft and silky as the steam around him, and twice as evasive. It spun like a thread on a needle around his mind, sending him deeper into the half sleeping state he was in… The words were clearer this time, as though he was nearer to their source…

_"See the white stars shining now,_

_In the sky,_

_Of the night,_

_See them shining clear and bright,_

_For their Fair Lady…"_

The voice was soft, sweet, the gentlest voice Estel had ever heard. A smile played across his lips as he latched onto it, letting it become a part of him…

_"…Gently, gently hear them sing,_

_Of moon and sky,_

_Up so high,_

_Softly they sing you to sleep,_

_For their Fair Lady."___

Slowly, ever, ever so slowly, he opened his eyes a fraction of the way. The edges of his vision were blurred with his lashes hung heavily with moisture, but he could see.

And see he did.

It was the mist, he told himself. It was blurring his vision, his sense told him. He was weary, his head reminded. Yet all the same, the picture still stood there, faint as the mist, but here beyond a doubt.

An elf woman with dewy golden hair was sat side on opposite him, the sleeves of her white dress folded back to the elbows to free her hands. He remained still, watching her move over something… Then he heard it – the sound of splashing water, yet the pool in which he sat kept still. He could see hear laughing as water flecked onto her slender delicate face, and one of the water lilies hanging in her hair float idly downwards and out of sight. The waft of the flowers drifted along to him, calming and sweet. A child's head with eyes of the most piercing blue bobbed up, golden hair like his mother's plastered to his head as he happily spouted a fountain from his mouth. The elf woman kept singing, the tone and pace different from last time; where it had been slow and wistful now it was jolly and lively, making the child clap his hands in joy.

Slowly, as if feeling his eyes on her, the elf woman stopped singing and fell silent. The child seemed to melt into the mist and in his place blood coated her hands, glistening sickly crimson. Estel felt his stomach churn and an unexplainable fear clutched tightly at his heart, though he could not have said why. Faintly, she turned her head towards him, and a slow sad smile crept across her lips. It was then he noticed to his horror that the white dress was slashed at, hacked to pieces and stained with deep blood red… Her skin was deathly white, and a trickle of blood ran from her mouth as it parted once last time.

_"…for their Fair lady…" _She whispered.

The steams from the pool began to swirl around her, and within mere moments she was enveloped by them, a ghostly silhouette in the mists. When they finally parted again, she had vanished. Estel closed his eyes…

…And opened them again, crashing to his feet with a great splash, sending water flying over the side as he grappled for control of his legs and breathing. Huge shuddering gasps wracked his chest as he pulled himself weakly from the water, feeling as though his lungs were about to explode, and realised that while the apparition had been there, he had not been breathing.

Stumbling out of the bath, he laid their panting and staring at the ceiling, waiting for the jelly like feeling in his knees to pass away. It was several minutes before he could trust himself to stand again; yet he knew what he must do. He must reassure the common sense in his mind that screamed he had been dreaming. Dripping and soaked, he took stealthy steps around to the other side of the pool, and to his surprise found a smaller delve in the marble that he had not seen before and knelt down by it. It was a child's bath, much smaller than the one next to it. But that was not what made him gasp – after all, it was expected.

What made him gasp was this – a single white lily, floating elegantly upon the water.

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**Oooooooh**** scary flowers.**** slaps hand I must stop with the sarcastic comments… Anyways, spooky stuff! Hit that pretty purple button and tell me what you think, perrdy please?**

**Reviewer Replies**

**Joshua Nenya**** – Aww, my new favourite person! I'm so glad you liked the way they turned out – especially Legolas. I wanted him to retain some traces of his father and yet seem different from him too. And you're English is wonderful! It puts my German to flight in shame, trust me Thank you!**

**HarryEstel**** – Yay! Ah, and now the mystery grows even more… Oh I'm evil. Lol, thank you!**

**silvertoekee**** – Lol, I'm glad you liked that bit! I had fun writing that – I had fun writing a part of this too. They're the bits of fics that you think about writing before you've even set pen to paper, aren't they? Well, I was technically not sticking true to Tolkien there with the children bit – Arwen was the last of her people born, and she's 2000 odd, so that was twisted a little to suit me Thank you!**

**sielge**** – Ah, humming and singing… So here's what's next! Thank you!**

**grumpy**** –I'm glad you like it. As for why Estel only can hear the lullaby… all shall be revealed! Thank you!**

**Star-Stallion**** – Heya girl! Lol, well luckily this isn't _such_ a monster. I think I lost me mojo… Never know, might turn up in the next chapter. WILL – FINISH – FIC – ARGH…….. You must push me my dear, and force me to do it, even if I kick and scream, you must! Thank you!**

**Mellaithwen**** – OH NO, NOT RAIN!!! :-O Teehee! Lol you are CRAZY. Afterthought I wonder if Thraniel is pregnant yet… Mmmn… **

**Legolas: I'd thank you kindly if you did not talk of such things!**

**Moi****: Yeah, but its so much fun…**

**Legolas: blushes furiously **

**Moi****: Ooh. Red. Angry colour.**

**Thank you my dear!!!!!**

**moonshine44**** – Argh no, not confusing! Ah you've latched onto something there, but shh! Not all of it, but don't let the others know! Thank you!**

**Lindele**** – That's quite alright my dear. Hope you enjoyed it!**

**the**** penumbra**** – Lol don't we all? Wonder I mean… Well we shall see! Thank you!**

**_Loadsa love, Estel xxx_**


	4. The Wind is Rising

**Disclaimer****: You recognise it, Tolkien owns it! So that leaves me with Rómen, Lómë, Tirmor and Nimlothnen. Oh, and the Malteasers. **

**A/N****: Well I quite honestly say that you are the luckiest bunch of readers I have ever had – I never usually update this quick. Just ask Enny – yes, Second Star to the Right will be coming at some point! So I don't think there's too much to say for this one – oh, I forgot to tell you last chapter that the tune for the lullaby is '****London****Bridge****', the nursery rhyme. As for this chapter -**

**berionin**** – protect me**

**And I'm going to assume that the others you know or at least recognise. An assumption I am bound to regret, but there you go! Oh and this hasn't been beta-d, so, if there are any typos, just yell at me!**

**Reviewer replies as the end!**

**Enjoy **

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**Chapter Four – The Wind is Rising**

_'Follow your heart, little child of the west wind_

_Follow the voice that's calling you home_

_Follow your dreams but always remember me_

_You are my brother under the sun.'_

**_-- Bryan Adams, My Brother Under the Sun_**

"Are you well, Estel?" Legolas asked quietly, his fair face masked with concern. He kept his voice low so as not to attract the attention of others at the table, though had he spoken normally the words would have been drowned out.

"Estel, are you well?" he repeated, when the young man made no answer. The elf Prince frowned; his own plate was mostly empty but for a few unwanted items –the Ranger's on the other hand was all but untouched, a very unusual occurrence at the man's meals the elf had come to realise, and while the cooks might simply feel put out, he himself could not help but to be worried.

"Estel? Are you alright?" Elladan echoed the Prince, leaning cross the table to peer into his human brother's eyes; but they were glazed grey and far away from the dinner table in the Palace of Mirkwood. He reached out and took his brother's hand, stirring him back into the waking world. Estel started slightly, his face holding a puzzled expression. Elrohir nudged his twin gently in the ribs; something was troubling the Ranger anyone could see, but the Noldor elves knew he was usually far better at hiding it than this.

"Hmn?" Estel murmured questioningly, his eyes betraying the feeling that he wasn't completely focused on them.

"Are you alright?" Elladan asked again, squeezing the young man's hand a little.

"Oh – yes, yes I am fine," he assured them, forcing a meek smile to his lips.

"You look rather pale," Elrohir told him, unconvinced. "You haven't eaten a proper meal for three days."

"Perhaps you are tired?" Lómë suggested unexpectedly from Legolas' other side. Estel's eyes lit up and he seized the idea like a life-line – something that the young twin did not miss.

"Yes, I believe that must be it. The air has been very crisp lately; I think it has worn me out."

Legolas raised an elegant eyebrow, knowing full well that the Ranger had put up with far more than crisp air and been none the worse for wear.

"It would do you well to eat something then, my friend," he commented lightly.

"I think I'll just get some rest actually," he replied hastily, glancing at his intact meal with near regret, and rose to his feet, pulling away from his brother's touch.

The twins were by no means persuaded by a single thing Estel had just said, but decided not the push the matter – not yet anyway – and consented to let him go. He bowed stiffly and exited the hall as quickly as possible without seeming too rude; then as soon as he as out of eye shot he broke into a run, speeding through the empty corridors and scaling the flights of stairs as swiftly as any elf could boast, before bursting into his room, and closing the door behind him he flung himself down on his bed, praying to Eru that the twins would not follow.

For several minutes, he just lay like that on the bed, unmoving, breathing in the sweet scent of the fresh sheets and thinking of nothing else; but soon there was no more he could preoccupy himself with and he sat up, kicking off his boots and leaning against the headboard, pulling his knees up to his chin. Elrohir was right; he hadn't eaten a proper meal in three days, but his stomach was in too much turmoil to be able to handle anything heavy right now. Not since –

He knew he was in all likelihood over-reacting. He knew that there was without a doubt some sort of logical explanation that would mean the whole situation made sense – he just couldn't find it was all.

Leaning over, he open the bed side draw and pulled out the delicate white flower. The velvety petals had lost none of their lustre being shut in the dark, nor the faint glow that seemed to emanate from them. Three or four rings of brilliant white petals flushed with pale green beamed up at him, as fresh and alive as the day the blossom had been picked. Sitting back against the head board, he laid it in his open palms, the soft cool feel of it as sweet as its fragrance. It was a beautiful thing he could not deny, nor did he have any desire to do so – yet for some reason, its very being made him uneasy, unsettling his stomach and leading to the inadvertent fast.

The fire in the grate had been lit late that afternoon and now it cackled happily, warming the room like a busy kitchen. Still holding the lily in his hands, he felt himself growing drowsy as the warmth sunk deep into his bones, filling him with a heavy leaden sleepiness. Bit by bit, his weakened body succumbed to the inevitability of sleep…

_…"My Lady, I speak to you only from the heart and in light only of your best interests! Can you not see that? Will you not listen?" an exasperated voice near shouted._

_"Do not raise your voice to me!" a woman replied, her words strong and unfaltering. "I have told you, I am very much aware of my best interests! Wish all due respect sir, I cannot give you what you seek, for it is not mine to give."_

_"Well if not yours, then whose my Lady?!" the male voice bellowed now, his shadow raging against the fire lit wall._

_"I am married with a son, the Crown Prince of the Kingdom no less. I love my husband, and I will not so lightly throw my vows away, and I would bid you do the same." The woman's shadow turned to leave when the other caught he arm tightly._

_"I have made my vows, and by standing here I keep them!"_

_"Unhand me!" The woman's shadow struggled against his grip. "How can you say you love me and yet hurt me? Unhand me I say!" The faintest trace of fear laced her words now, though the voice did not yet shake. _

_"Love works in mysterious ways my lady; you cannot say that is untrue."_

_"I can say that a love that would cause harm is untrue!" she hissed, pulling her arms clear but remaining where she stood. _

_"You know not of what you speak," the male muttered in disgust._

_"I think I understand my own meanings," she answered boldly. "What would you have me do? Abandon here all that I love and hold dear? All that I have worked so hard to build within these walls, simply on a whim of yours? I will not, I cannot do it!"_

_Quick as a flash, he had spun on his heels and slapped her sharply across the face. Her own shadow reeled backwards, clutching her cheek as she cried out in pain._

_"You feel that?" he roared, "That is pure, undying love! Do you deny that?"_

_She did not answer, but her shadow turned to face him once more, her hand still to her cheek. _

_"Do – you – deny it!" he roared, towering over her. Yet still she stood tall, looking him straight in the eye even as he yanked her hand from her face._

_"You are very sick, sir, very sick if you believe I could ever love any one like you."_

_Growling in anger, he grasped her face with both hands and forced a kiss onto her, a desperate urgent kiss that knocked her back; but with all her strength, she pulled back just far enough to slap him hard and turned to run; but she was not fast enough. With a half scream that died in her throat, he lunged for her and sent them both tumbling to the floor. Their shadows scrabbled and kicked out at one another, but she was quickly overcome, and she shuddered visibly at the sound of a dagger being drawn. She struggled to no avail, pounding at every bit of free flesh he had, trying with all her will to save her life. _

_His shadow loomed over her, the dagger long and deadly in the light. _

_"I hereby fulfil my oaths my Lady," he breathed hoarsely, "If I may not love Nimlothnen, Queen of Mirkwood, then none may."_

_With a last, echoing scream that seemed to rip apart the very fabric of the world, the long knife swept into her beating heart and stopped it forever. Her final breath caught in her exposed lungs as her soul fled, but her last words haunted her murderer for ever…_

_"Amin estel…"_

_Estel…_

_…Estel…_

"Estel!"

With a shuddering, gasping breath, Estel sprang awake, his eyes wide as he struggled with some unseen foe, knocking futilely against them with everything he had, but with his body weakened by lack of energy that was not much.

"Law!" he sobbed. "Law, berionin, berionin!"

"Estel! Lasto beth nîn!" Strong arms grasped his shoulders, holding the squirming man down beneath them. "Listen to me Estel, its Elrohir, calm yourself, you are safe, you were dreaming young one…"

Slowly, steadily, Estel's breathing came back under control though his chest still rose and fell deeply. His vision swam into focus to reveal the anxious timeless grey of his brother's eyes poring into his own, and closed his own, finally separating dream from reality.

"It is well young one, you are safe," Elrohir whispered gently, releasing his hold on Estel's shoulders.

Estel nodded slowly, the soothing sound of his brother's voice stilling his stampeding heart. When he opened his eyes again, Elrohir was sitting on the bed with one leg folded underneath him, the other dangling to the floor. He smiled weakly and levered himself up on his elbows, knowing with dread that Elrohir had come here with a purpose.

"You were calling in your sleep," Elrohir said softly, making the Ranger jump. He hadn't talked in his sleep for a long time.

"What did I say?" he replied, trying to keep his face neutral.

Elrohir stayed silent, watching Estel closely. "Not a lot that made any sense to be honest," he admitted, "Though I know not what is running through that mind of yours; perhaps if I did, I could understand."

Estel looked everywhere but his brother.

"You cannot keep your peace forever Estel," he said wisely, not pushing the young man too hard.

"I can try," came the muttered reply.

"Nay, for you will die of starvation first I fear," Elrohir said, slipping him a wry grin, "And _then_ what would father say?"

Estel chuckled softly, imagining his father's face if the twins brought him back half alive through lack of food. "It would not do much for relations with Mirkwood I think," he smiled.

Elrohir nodded, waiting for Estel to speak first.

"Do you believe in ghosts, Ro?" he asked finally. The question startled the twin.

"I could not say – the souls of mortals are said to linger in unrest upon Middle Earth, some seeking vengeance, others solace."

"What of Elves?" Aragorn asked carefully.

"Elves do not remain as ghosts, Estel. Our souls all go to the Halls of Mandos, whether we will or we nill. There is no remaining here for us, unless we are sent back."

"Like Glorfindel?"

Elrohir nodded. "But that is a rare thing indeed."

Silence again, as Estel frowned in confusion.

"Then I do not know," he sighed in frustration. "I cannot explain it. I do not know where to start."

"The beginning is a popular place, I'm told," Elrohir mocked gently.

"You would not believe me even were I to tell you," Estel said, shaking his head.

"How can you know if you do not try me first?"

To this Estel had no reply, and sighed again in resignation. "I know it sounds… strange. Insane – as though I am insane… Perhaps I am." He had not pondered this option before.

"I shall be the judge of that when I have heard your tale, brother," Elrohir said, settling himself more comfortably. "Now pray leave your excuses aside."

"It began our first night here I think," he started, a frown creasing his brow. "When King Thranduil ordered me from the hall… I came up here and I heard – someone singing." It sounded lame somehow, he knew, but Elrohir merely gazed at him, quietly prompting him to continue. "I did not pay it much heed then, for my mind was troubled with other things. Then the next day, when I went to collect my sword and bow from Legolas' chambers, I heard it again; a child's lullaby I decided and I heard also the laughter of a woman and a child and… the perfume of lilies was in the air. I assumed it was a nurse or mother and thought no more of it, until Legolas informed me no child had been born in Mirkwood for five hundred years."

Elrohir nodded silently, acknowledging the fact, but did not speak; nor did his face reveal any of his thoughts. Taking strength from his, he carried on.

"That was the last I heard of it… Until three days ago. I was using Legolas' bathing room, because you and Dan were using the one on our floor and Legolas said he did not mind. It's a very grand room – all marble and creamy white, flecked with green and dark shades of grey. And the tub is a small pool in the floor, the water level came up to my chest – quite deep, don't you think? I am tall enough and it"-

"Estel," Elrohir interrupted gently. "You are avoiding something."

"Yes," he agreed faintly, "I suppose I am, aren't I?" He swallowed, fiddling with the sheets on his bed. The lily he noticed was discarded on the floor, as yet unseen by his brother. He wondered why.

"It was very misty – I could have been seeing things, I was very tired that day – or perhaps my eyes were just playing tricks…" He trailed off into silence.

"What did you see?" breathed Elrohir.

"A – woman," Estel croaked. "All in white with golden tresses and lilies were in her hair. She – she was washing a child, her child I think, and they were laughing – but – but then the child was gone and her dress was slashed, stained with blood. There was blood on her face, on her hands… And she whispered at me; then she was gone."

Elrohir sat unmoving and unspeaking, for he sensed there was yet something his brother had not spoken.

"When I could move again – for I was frozen even as I stared, I could not even breathe – when I could move again, I went to where she had been. There was a smaller bath, a child's bath, and a lily was floating upon the water."

It seemed to Estel then that the following silence lasted an eternity. His brother did not stir, but sat perfectly still, his face masking his thoughts as his grey eyes narrowed.

"Do you think I am insane?" Estel whispered.

The smallest of noises that the human could not detect caught the Elf's attention. He span around and onto his face, facing the door and froze to listen again, before taking three sprinted steps towards it and pulling it open to reveal – nothing. There was no one there.

"Hello?" he called down the corridor, but it was empty, and all the doors were closed. His brow knotted uneasily, and after a final futile check, he closed the door and turned back to his brother who was watching him with earnest anxiety.

"What did you hear?" he asked quietly.

"I thought… but it does not matter," Elrohir shook it off, resuming his position on the bed. "And in answer to your question, no; I do not believe you are insane."

"You don't?" Estel said incredulously, hardly daring to trust his ears. "Truly?"

"Truly," he nodded in reply, "I have heard many stranger things in my time that what you have just told me, though perhaps none so disturbing. Do you know who she was, this woman that you saw?"

Secretly, Estel had his own ideas, but he decided to keep that to himself for now. "I know not, only that she was very, most likely Silvan."

"Do you have the flower now?"

"Yes I brought it back, its there." Estel pointed to the lily on the floor.

Elrohir followed his gaze, but did not seem to latch onto it. "Where?"

"There – look, by the table," Estel motioned with his hand, but still it seemed the elf could not see it.

"Could you pick it up and show me?" he said finally, an idea coming to mind.

Bewildered and in serious doubt again as to his own mental state, Estel leant off of the bed and scooped the lily up in his hands, bringing it up to rest on the sheets. A soft "Oh!" of surprise escaped Elrohir.

"By Eru," he whispered, near speechless with wide eyes.

"What? What is it?" Estel asked suddenly worried, checking the lily over.

"And you could always see it? As plain as daylight?" Elrohir made sure.

"What do you mean? Of course I can see it – Ro, what's going on?"

"I could not tell you Estel – I am as lost as you," answered the twin, staring at the lily as though he'd never seen one before. "But until you picked it up, I could see nothing but the bare floor."

"Perhaps it was hidden in shadow?" suggested Estel.

"Perhaps…" Elrohir murmured to himself, but he didn't sound convinced. "Estel, I would speak to Elladan about this – do you mind?"

"You will tell no other?"

"You have my word," Elrohir assured him.

"Then I trust you," the Ranger smiled. The twin had gotten up to leave when he remembered something. "Ro, what did you hear me saying in my sleep?"

Elrohir studied him long and hard, as though decided whether or not he was ready to hear what he was about to be told.

"You said nothing coherent; only 'listen', 'to' and 'these walls'."

"Listen to these walls?" echoed Estel, completely confused.

"And maybe that is exactly what we should be doing," Elrohir sighed, passing a hand over his eyes. "Get some rest Estel; on the morrow, I want you to eat three full meals, understood?" he said in incredible likeness of his father.

Estel nodded, and Elrohir kissed him lightly on the forehead. "Goodnight Estel," he bid and left the room to find Elladan.

Estel placed the flower carefully on the side table before changing out of his clothes. Outside, a steady wind was rising and whistling through the autumn trees.

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Morning dawned grey and bleary; heavy ashen storm clouds suffocated the Palace and forest, threatening at any moment to unleash an unforgiving torrent of pounding steel. Legolas gazed out at the despondent day, a sense of foreboding in his heart. He knew why – firstly, the weather meant he would be forced to sit on his father's Council meeting this morning, something his heart did not rejoice in; and secondly, because it meant Estel could not go into the forest to avoid the King. He would have to make sure Rómen kept him busy today, for both their sakes.

A soft knock at the door broke him from his reverie.

"My Prince?" Tirmor called.

"Enter," Legolas answered, quickly throwing a shirt over his head.

The door clicked open as Tirmor entered with a silver tray laden with bread and honey and fruits, along with a jug of water.

"Your father requested I bring your breakfast to you this morning," he explained, setting it down on a table and pouring the water into a glass. "I believe he wishes to speak with you before the Council."

Legolas took the glass with a grateful smile. "Do you have any idea what he wants to speak to me about?"

"I could not hazard such a guess at my Lord's mind," Tirmor smiled, making Legolas grin.

"Tirmor, you have known him all of his life; you could predict his very breathing pattern if you put your mind to it, I do not doubt."

"You're very kind," Tirmor said, rolling his eyes. "I believe it may be about your human friend, though I may be wrong."

"Estel? What has he done now to offend Mirkwood's King?" Legolas set down his glass, his father's temper flaring through him.

"Nothing to my knowledge, so do not worry yourself my Prince," Tirmor assured him. "Oh, but Lord Elladan requested I inform you that Strider has just devoured half of our kitchens for breakfast, and hopes you will not mind overly."

"Has he indeed?" Legolas smiled again, "Well I am glad he is eating again at least. I thought it would pass."

"Most things with mortals do, my Prince," agreed Tirmor, before turning to the wardrobe. "Will you be wearing your regal tunic for the Council today?"

"Yes, someone saw to it yesterday; freshly cleaned and pressed, do not worry," Legolas told him. Tirmor bowed his head and turned to go. "Tirmor, could you pass a message to Rómen for me if you are passing that way?"

"No doubt I will find reason to do so, my Prince; what is the message?"

"Tell him to keep Strider busy with him today, and that the twins many accompany them too if he so wishes. My mind would rest the easier for knowing he is not inadvertently offending anyone else."

"It is done my Prince."

"Thank you Tirmor," Legolas called as the elf shut the door.

He was half way through his breakfast when another knock sounded on the door, sharp and demanding.

"Legolas?"

"Come in Adar," Legolas called, brushing crumbs from his clothes.

The door swung open and Thranduil stepped in, a new crown of autumn leave and berries upon his golden hair.

"I trust you slept well?" enquired the King as he seated himself opposite his son.

"Very much so Adar," Legolas told him, pouring his father a glass of water. "Tirmor said you wanted to speak to me?"

"Yes – it's about the human," Thranduil began, and inwardly Legolas smiled. "He has not crossed me as you vowed, since the feast. I would lift the burden of him from your shoulders my son, on the basis that perhaps my first judgement was clouded by emotion. He is free to stay within Mirkwood, so long as he keeps his place."

"Hannon lle, Adar," Legolas grinned as he pushed his plate from him.

"Good; well, are you prepared for the Council?" Thranduil surveyed his son with approval; he looked every bit the Royal Prince that he should.

Legolas nodded, taking a deep sigh at the thought of four hours locked in a chamber room with the bickering Councillors. "As well as I will ever be Adar."

"That is well; we shall need to be well prepared, with today's agendas."

"And what would they be Adar?"

"The price of wine, the affairs of the gardeners and a squabble over a path of brambles to name but a few," the King replied, keeping a dead straight face as Legolas snorted most un-prince like into his water. "I do not know why you're laughing Legolas; they are very important topics, the sort that keep the Kingdom going." Yet there was a merry twinkle in his eye.

"Oh of course, I have no doubt about that Adar," he nodded in mock earnest.

"Eru only knows where you picked up that stubborn streak, Legolas," he said as he rose to his feet and headed for the door. "It certainly didn't come from _my_ side of the family."

----------

Dark eyes glinted malevolently under a hood as leather gloved hands gripped vice like at the stormy grey mane of his mount, the hoof falls falling like thunder on the frozen ground. The rider cursed continuously under his breath, kicking his steed ruthlessly for more speed than the animal could give, making it foam at the mouth though it bore no bit. Hundreds and hundreds of years he had kept this deadly secret and now some good-for-nothing, busy-body mortal was about it ruin it all! A plague on them all, on all men in Middle Earth! He didn't know how, but the boy within Thranduil's halls knew too much, more than anyone should, and he needed to stop it before things got out of hand. He had already told one of those infernal twins, who knew what he'd do next? No, he needed to check first; a sudden death would be too suspicious. He needed to follow him for a while yet, to make sure… Then when he was, he would know what to do. He had vowed no one would ever break his oath – if it took innocent blood to keep it, then innocent blood was the price. One less man in the world would do no one any harm.

Over head, the rising wind howled and shrieked, heralding the coming of the first major autumn storm.

**Quite a dark chapter that wasn't it?**** Not much humour at all. I promise I shall make up for that in the next chapter, but I needed to get this out of the way first. So if you enjoyed, or if you didn't, or if you're just bored, please press that pretty review button! Thank you!**

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**Reviewer Replies**

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**Star-Stallion**** – Aww, flowers are perrdy! Lol brilliant idea! Deceptive and dark – just what we need! Ahahahaha! Yeeessssss well if someone would be so kind as to start one of them off I would gladly add to it, but I've not the time to start anything extra myself atm! Chemistry coursework, Geography coursework, English coursework... Grrrr coursework. So yeah, if you wanted to start either I'd add. I KNOW! CAN YO BELIEVE THE PAIR OF THEM?! Amy gave Thraniel 'the talk' but I can't help but feel that perhaps it was a little late! **

**sielge**** – Yay addictiveness! Hopefully the sort that won't kill you, like smoking… Ergh… Anyways, glad you liked it!**

**HarryEstel**** – Evil? Moi? Ah, but you are too kind! Teehee, hope you enjoyed this!**

**silvertoekee**** – Lol know what you mean about the whole changing fic thing. I usually don't actually decide on a story plot entirely until it's written! Probably not healthy, but there you go. Yeah I liked the leaf fight, I wanted to make sure the fic didn't get too heavy and with the twins and Rómen I've got a good few scapegoats. Glad you enjoyed it!**

**Tori**** – Yay! Nice long review! Lol you're not being silly, I know just what you mean about the substance thing. And I'm so glad you liked the characters! I've tried really hard to keep them true and not change them, so I'm glad it hasn't gone unnoticed! Oh I hate those horrid Thranduil stories – pray tell, how exactly can Legolas have turned out so nice a person if his father is a butchering maniac? I ask you… lol. Yay believable is good! I like that film, but the inspiration for this actually came from seeing a production in the ****West End**** in ****London**** called 'The Woman in Black'. It was absolutely terrifying! I loved it! No, luckily, it won't bite off Estel's hand, but its not entirely normal either… Wait and see! Glad you enjoyed it!**

**Mellaithwen**** – Grr with the rain. Lol yay for the fleeting angst!!! Oh I'm blushing. Teehee thankeeeee! Lol if I had a pound for every reviewer who said 'scary flowers'… I'd have about a fiver. Lol, enjoy!**

**Lindele**** – Strange happenings indeed! Hope you liked this.**

**Encaitarince**** – SING, SIIINNNNGGG! SING, SING, SING, SING!!!!!! Ah Travis, good song… Anyways! EEEK! Lol the only time I'll be able to get that one done will probably be half term, so another two or three weeks of waiting I due I'm afraid! I know its terrible but I've got so much school work at the moment… Grrr damned stuff. Lol, glad you like it!**

**Joshua Nenya**** – Yay new fave person! I'm glad you liked the flower touch, but suddenly everyone seems to have a fear of flowers… Oops. Ah wel! I know what you mean, reading a language is much easier than actually forming a reply to it. Yeah the South East is alright, got plenty going for it I suppose, but to be honest I really love the north and west, because there is so much open space; you don't really git it down in the south, its all cut up and owned. Wow you look daily? I feel bad now, I update like every week and a half… Sorry! Hope you enjoyed this!**

**grumpy**** – I shall never enter a bather tub again without checking first whose it is me thinks. Lol glad you liked the leaf fight, hope you enjoyed this too!**

**Loadsa love, Estel xxx**


	5. Masked Assailants

**Disclaimer:**** At first I was so sure, I was so happy! Thinking I could find a way to pull Middle Earth free – But I'm trapped within these bonds, God-damned lawyers won't go wrong – But I'll grow strong, and one day before too long they will be mind, They will be mine! Oh as long as I keep up my fics I'll keeping biding my time! I've got so little to own, save for horses, Lómë and Róme, They will be mine! They will be miiiiiiiiine!**

**bows**

**A/N:**** cough After that slaughter of a great song… Welcome back to chapter five! Action here my friends! Not exactly what I had in mind when I first planed this fic but hey, the whim must be obeyed I guess. I'm going to apologise for the horsey bits; I love horses, but I tend to find it can get tedious when people ramble on about them – no offence to anyone! So if you feel that's what I've done here, please do tell me. But apart from that… Erm, I think that its for now. Reviewer replies at the bottom as always! Enjoy.**

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**Chapter Five – Masked Assailants**

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_The stormy wind is rising;_

_Can you feel its thunder go?_

_Steel clouds o'er head gather_

_With ice rain soon to follow.___

_Light, its ebbs away with an_

_Ever strengthened tide;_

_Within these shadows, who's to say,_

_Where masked assailants hide?_

**_-- Estel_******

The storm brewed ostentatiously for two whole days. The wind ripped what remaining leaves there were from the naked autumn trees, showing them with neither mercy nor pity as it seared its way through the forest. From their homes, elves watched anxiously, for they felt more than any other races on Middle Earth the tension in the air and they felt it now like a heavy burden, weighing them down. Preparations were made to secure strongholds against the inexorable ferocious winds that would soon follow in the wake of the pre-storm breezes, and windows were boarded and shutters nailed down against the torrent of rain that hovered ominously above them in the skies. The Palace of Mirkwood felt a hush fall upon it like a blanket, muffling noise as worried eyes glanced at the coming onslaught overhead.

Not all life could come yet to a standstill though, and three lonesome riders gritted their teeth and went on through the trees, shielding their faces from the snapping biting branches.

"Remind me again, _dearest_ brothers, _why_ we are doing this?" Estel growled, affected more than either of the twins. His cheeks were red raw from a constant battle with the wind.

"Because we have been lounging within the Palace for too long," Elladan replied aloofly, his keen elven eyes scanning the trees.

"For _two days_," Estel corrected.

"The game supplies are beginning to run low," Elrohir repeated for the umpteenth time. "As long as we remain within the Kingdom, we should pull our weight."

"Beginning," Estel echoed for the umpteenth time plus one. "I would hate to accuse either of you of failing senses, but lest you had not noticed, Mirkwood is a _very big Kingdom_, with _very big game supplies_. They do not run out that easily."

"Estel you will warn every stag, boar and hare within a two mile radius of our approach if you do not stop your infernal whinging," Elladan sighed, not really meaning it. Well, he did, but not with vicious intent. Ever since Elrohir had come to him with his human brother's tale, he had been on the alert for anything suspicious. He had not seen this flower yet, for he had accompanied Rómen on a few excursions around the Palace, but they were intending to discuss it tonight. The eldest son of Lord Elrond was charged with the care of his brothers; a charge that he did not take lightly.

"Perhaps you had not noticed brother, but there are no stags, boars or hares to hunt," Estel pointed out – and both twins had to admit, he was right. For three whole hours they had been scouring the forest for a sign of anything, but neither hide nor hair was to been seen of any game.

"Mayhap the animal's feel this storm as we do," Elladan muttered, his twin nodding in agreement.

"Rómen said only yesterday the main herd of dear had moved dangerously far west for the time of year."

"Then what are we doing here?" Estel said reasonably enough so that neither twin replied. "Could we not at least stop for a while?"

"He is right, Elladan; this trip is a waste of time. We should get back before the storm breaks," Elrohir admitted defeat honourably.

The elder brother nodded, stopping his stallion with a soft touch. The large dark eyes of the rich chestnut horse looked out from behind a thick long forelock as his master slid from his back. "I will mark this tree to let any other passing hunter know that nothing is to be found here, to save them wasting time." As he sat huddled in his thick coat atop his trusty bay mare, Estel couldn't help but to think that if anyone got this far they had already wasted time, but refrained from commenting as such.

Elrohir watched as his brother carved a rune into the thick bark, burying his hands in his own steed's mane, even though the cold did not effect him. The black mare nickered gently, turning her head towards him. It surprised many that the twins, alike in almost every way, should not have identical horses; but Elrohir's gentle nature bent him more to the mildness of Summer, whereas Elladan, quick to anger or to laugh, preferred the flighty stallion Flame as his mount.

Much to Estel's relief they had soon about turned and were re-tracing their steps. The soft hoof falls of the horses fell stifled on the leafy woodland floor as they went along. To the mind of the young man it seemed that the wind sent the branches more in his direction than his brothers, as though aware that he was more vunerable; though if this were true then steadfast Pilgrim paid them no heed, but plodded along as ever, not so much as batting an eyelid.

They were an hours ride from the Palace when the heavens were unleashed.

It started as big, fat shining drops, few and far between, plummeting to earth with a brutal speed. The horses seemed not bothered, but the riders bent their heads down and pulled their collars right up to stop the raindrops hitting their faces or running down their necks.

Yet within a mater of minutes, the true rainfall began. In the space of a few seconds, their visibility was reduced to only a few meters on every side, as cast iron sheets poured down from on high to drench them to the bone. Soon it no longer mattered that their hoods were up; the water seeped straight through, running down their faces as rivulets and dripping off of their noses. Flame was tossing his head and snorting the water out of his nostrils and took huge leaps over the collecting puddles about his feet. Summer watched with a mixture of disdain and mild interest as she picked her way nimbly through the boggy ground, avoiding the branches as much as she could for her rider – and Pilgrim just ploughed straight on, the muddy water sloshing at her legs making no difference what so ever.

To make the matter of seeing their path even worse, the thunder clouds seemed to shift themselves around and block as much light from reaching them as possible, so that the darkness between the trees hid all kinds of pitfalls for the horses. Flame continuously lost his footing, though luckily no hurt came to either him or Elladan, but beneath his hood the elder twin's face was set as he murmured constantly to the highly strung animal. Thunder growled ominously, hungry to be released. Then overhead, a great fork of white lightning cascaded down to the ground. All three horses jumped a foot in the air, and Elladan had to serve to miss a low tree bough.

"Elladan, we cannot take much more of this!" Elrohir shouted above the roar in the trees.

"We are not half an hour from the Palace," Elladan called back, swinging Flame back around, "We can hold till then!"

"But the horses Dan, they cannot!" Estel yelled. "The ground is too dangerous, we need to stop until the worst has passed!" Even as he spoke, Pilgrim's hind legs lost their grip on the slippery leaves and came sliding under her until, struggling, she regained her balance.

"No, we must not!" Elladan bellowed back, Flame skittish under him. "This rain will not stop for a long time, we must make headway!"

"He is right, Estel," Elrohir nodded, "We are so close now, we must carry on."

Estel nodded, but couldn't shake the feeling that going ahead was a bad idea. He motioned for Elladan to lead the way.

Flame tossed his head and went on at his master's soft command, but now none of the horses we easy and even the twins were finding it hard to keep them calm. All six beings were sodden to their very core, and though the elves were not hindered by it, a deep chill penetrated right to the bone of the others. Estel sat shivering uncontrollably, his hands frozen to the slimy reins where his gloves had become as useless as his cloak. Even within the two layers of clothing he found himself wishing he'd put more on, or that he'd thought to put a rain sheet or blanket over Pilgrim before they'd come out; her coat was as drenched as though she'd been in a bath, her black mane was stuck to her neck, and he could feel her quivering slightly too.

It happened before any of them could register it.

Elladan had been leading the way, and had come to a narrow point in the track where two old chestnut trees grew very close together, their boughs merging overhead to form a kind of cover. Here he had waited a few moments for the others to catch up, though the naked branches did little to protect him. Flame had turned so that his quarters were to the wind, his ears flickering backwards and forwards between the sound of his master's voice and the commotion and havoc around him. He half reared when an almost eerily familiar noise caught his attention, but Elladan missed it.

"Shh, stille nu, faeste…" he breathed, stroking the stallions slick neck, "Quite now, steady"- but the horse was having none of it. _In the trees, in the trees!_ he screamed, trying desperately to get him master's attention, but the elder twin put it down to the wind and rain. "It is well Flame, just the storm, you are safe"-

_No, no, in the trees! There is something in the trees!_ The faithful steed attempted fitfully to get his rider to understand, but it was already too late. Mid half-rear, an arrow suddenly came whizzing out from the forest to plant itself firmly in Flame's quarter with a soft thud. The horse screamed in pain and terror and threw himself away from the attacker's direction, slamming Elladan straight into one of the chestnuts. Dazed, he slid clumsily from the horses back to the swampy ground, as Flame reared and pranced above him. Another arrow, shooting through the gap between the horse's ears landed deep within the tree's old bark, but this was too much for Flame. With a shrieking neigh of panic he galloped madly down the track and out of sight towards the Palace.

It had happened so suddenly that it took a moment for Elrohir and Estel to even realise what had taken place, and by then Flame was already out of sight. Then as if snapping out of a trance, Elrohir threw himself from Summer's back to his brother's side. Estel felt as though his fingers were about to snap off, but drew his sword, peering into the darkness of the forest.

"Show yourself!" he demanded, Pilgrim pirouetting about her hind legs in her nervousness. "Come out and face us!" Estel bellowed brandishing his sword, all memory of coldness suddenly faded as he glanced at Elladan lying on the ground.

"Brother, can you hear me?" Elrohir grasped Elladan's head with both hands, willing the twin to look into his eyes. Elladan nodded slightly, but his eyes were unfocused.

"Hit my head – the tree – Flame…" he called feebly for his horse.

"He will be fine, Dan, he was headed for the Palace, they will catch him."

Looking up, Elladan noticed the arrows protruding from the tree, and as the full danger of the situation slammed into him as Flame had thrown him into the chestnut his eyes grew wide.

"Not safe – we must –"

"I know, Elladan; can you walk?" Elrohir shifted himself so that his brother could lean on him, and pulled them both to their feet. Summer came at once, standing stock still beside her master save for her ears and eyes, which flicked and rolled about in every direction. With one thrust, Elrohir got his brother astride the horse, and pulled himself up too. Casting a wary glance around him, he turned for the Palace; every part of him shook with anger at leaving this place, but his head was in control, and with his brother and the ferocious weather, they stood little chance of catching anyone.

"Estel, come!" he roared, nudging the black mare. "We must make all haste!"

Grudgingly Estel sheathed his sword and followed, Pilgrim suddenly anything but placid. The muddy ground sprayed aside as she cantered through it after the twins; and as they passed the chestnut, Estel deftly tore the arrow from its landing spot, tucking it safely within his saddle bag – they were going to need this evidence.

With a reckless riding brought on by fear of their attacker and for Elladan, the brothers galloped along the path, placing their trust entirely in the horses. As they disappeared around the corner, a dark cloaked figure emerged from the trees, bow in hand. A few locks of dark hair blew across its hooded face as it grinned, satisfied, at the retreating backs of the sons of Elrond.

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"Open the gates!" the warden's voice shouted over the clamour of the storm. "And get a groom down here at once!"

The orders were carried out simultaneously; a nimble footed runner sped to the stables, while hands worked quickly and efficiently to unbar the great gates of the Palace and throw them open. On the other side, a chestnut horse was working itself into a frenzy, rearing like a mad thing and neighing so much its voice was growing scratchy. As soon as the gates were wide enough, it bolted through and skidded to a halt in the cobbled courtyard, spinning in frantic circles and continuing to call. The warden watched it cautiously as the runner and a groom came speeding back.

"What is it, sir?" the horse handler called. The warden muttered under his breath.

"I defy you to guess wrongly, Landir," he replied shaking his head.

"Of course sir; but is that not Lord Elladan's horse? Where is he?" Landir posed the question briefly before turning his attention to the animal. "Sir – this horse is injured!"

Several voices cried out in alarm as they saw the feathered shaft embedded in the deep muscle of the stallion, a large dark patch surrounding the wound as it seeped through the soaked coat. The warden's mind at once began to do what it was trained to do.

"Saretyl, run a message at once to the Prince, he will want to be informed – Hathoril, take some scouts with more than basic skills in healing and find the sons of Elrond; the rest of you, keep watch and do what you can about this horse!"

The orders were no sooner out of his mouth than a patrol of six scouts mounted on the fleetest horses in the realm were through the gates, their hooves pounding the earth away into the trees. Tearing his eyes away from their retreating backs, the warden unbuckled his cloak and went down into the courtyard, where the chestnut stallion was striking with its forelegs at any that came too near.

"Landir, is there nothing you can do for the creature?" the warden called.

"I would have it in the barn, sir, but we cannot get it in there!" Landir ducked his head just in time, as an iron shod hoof kicked through the air where he had been.

"If we do not manage to get close enough to it soon, it is going to lose a dangerous amount of blood," the groom told him exasperated.

"What is going on here?" A regal voice rang out over the confusion. Prince Legolas was at the far entrance to the courtyard, striding purposefully towards them. His golden hair was dulled by the steel of the rain and plastered to his head.

"Your Majesty, Lord Elladan's horse has returned without him, even as you see," the warden explained quickly. "I have had scouts sent out to find the Lords and your friend, but for now we cannot get near enough this horse to aide it."

Legolas took the mass of information in its simplest form, and processed it quickly. "You have done well, Celebfin; but let me attempt to help Flame. He knows me a little, at least."

Celebfin nodded and stepped back, motioning for the others to do the same. Landir frowned slightly but pulled away, giving the horse more room.

Flame eyed Legolas warily, the only familiar face amongst a sea of strangers. He snorted derisively, pounding the cobbles with his foreleg and sending echoes around the courtyard.

Legolas opened his arms and took slow, steady steps towards the horse. "You need not fear, my friend," he whispered quietly, his voice soothing and balmy. Flame's ears flickered towards him. "You are safe. No one will hurt you here, I promise you." The pounding stopped; Legolas continued to step forwards. He was an two arms length from the stallion's flared nostrils. "What did you see, my friend?" he breathed. "What did you see that has frightened you so?"

He stopped, only a hand's breadth from the animal. Flame gazed at him, still undecided of whether this more familiar stranger could be trusted.

"Tell me what you saw, my friend," Legolas murmured. "Tell me what you saw."

Taking two small steps, Flame reached forward to nuzzle the Prince's arm.

_Strange sounds on the wind; assailants in the trees attacked us. The storm hid them, my master did not hear until it was too late._ Legolas ran a hand down the stallion's trembling neck. _I fled in fear. I did not stay with him._ The horse lowered its head, allowing Legolas to stroke him between the eyes. "This was not your doing, Flame," Legolas whispered. "You are hurt. Will you let me see?"

The horse remained still as he ran his hand further and further along its back until it came to the arrow. The wound was luckily not as bad as it looked; it did not go very deep, the shaft itself was quiet short, an oddity in itself.

"Will you let me help?" Legolas asked gently. "It will hurt, I do not lie to you."

Again, the horse remained unmoving, so Legolas braced his hand around the arrow. "I'm going to break this off." He talked as he worked, snapping the feathered end of the dart apart. Flame flinched slightly but did not move.

"Landir, can you bring me some towels?" the Prince requested, brushing the hair from his vision. Flame gazed at the Prince with wide, dark eyes.

"Steady now," the Prince soothed, running one hand over the horse's withers and holding the other tightly around the arrow. Landir soon returned and handed the towels to his Prince, but did not become involved himself. He stepped back with the others to watch.

"I'm going to pull it out now," Legolas told the stallion. "Be brave, Flame."

As gently as he could, Legolas began to maneuver the arrow head out of the flesh, thanking Eru it had not gone deeper than an inch and a half. Flame's quarters immediately tensed, only making the Prince's job harder.

"Try to relax, Flame; it will be easier."

Slowly, the horse released the tension, but it was replaced by a trembling that he could not control. Gritting his teeth, Legolas took a towel and placed it firmly around the wound area. The arrow was nearly free now, but the blood flow has increased. Flame tossed his head and whinnied quietly, but did not move away.

"Easy now, easy…" muttered Legolas. Nearly there…

With a fresh flow of blood, the arrowhead emerged from the horse's skin, coated in crimson but thankfully all in one piece; the Prince hadn't wanted to think about what he would do had a shard come loose.

He grabbed another towel and pressed down hard on it with the other, try to stop the blood flow somewhat.

"All over now Flame, all over," he breathed, still stroking the soaked neck. The stallion lowered his head to the ground, sighing in relief. "We need to get you to the barn though my friend; it is warn and dry in there. Landir here will take care of you." The Prince motioned for the groom to stand forward so the animal could see him. Landir so, holding himself straight but avoiding the stallion's eye, looking rather at his shoulder. Flame shook his mane, sending an additional shower over the ground, but made no attempt to stop him as he had done earlier.

Legolas nodded, and the stable hand took his position by Flame's side, muttering a strong of quiet words. Gently, he began to maneuver the horse out of the courtyard and towards the large barn adjacent to it.

He disappeared into it not a moment too soon; suddenly the air was filled with the shrill neighs of the returning scout horses as their feet clattered loudly over the cobbles – and amongst them, Summer and Pilgrim. Legolas' heart skipped a beat when he saw Elladan astride the mare with his brother, but a small smile flittered across his face when he heard what the eldest son of Elrond was saying.

"I am feeling absolutely fine!" Elladan fumed, trying to pry Elrohir's fingers from around his chest. "The dizziness has passed, we must get back out there Ro!"

"Glad to hear that you are not injured, mellon nin," the Prince smiled up as he came to Summer's shoulder.

"I would not go so far as to say that," Elrohir answered dryly. "Only a few minutes ago did he begin to form coherent sentences again."

"Let me go!" Elladan struggled in vain. "Our attacker is still out there, we cannot let them get away!"

"Dan, by this time he will be long gone; and the rain will have done away with any tracks he could have left," Estel answered distantly, peering out into the forest as though wishing he were wrong.

"Attacker?" Legolas said alarmed, "What is this you speak of?"

"We were riding back," Elrohir began, "When someone masked within the trees took a shot at Flame; he flung Elladan into a tree before fleeing."

"Then had another shot at them," Estel added, diving his hand into his saddle bag, "I have the arrow here."

"I believe we already have one of those in our possession," Legolas frowned, staring at the recognizable fletching on the arrow.

"Flame – where is he?" Elladan demanded at once. "Have you seen him? Is he well?"

"Peace, mellon nin," Legolas steadied, holding up his hands. "Flame I treated myself; he is being taken care of now. You need not worry, he is in the best of hands."

Elladan didn't look entirely convinced as he was helped from Summer's back by Estel, before shooing him away.

"I am fine!" he hissed, turning to walk before his legs gave out beneath him and he stumbled into the Prince.

"Oh yes, fit as a fiddle," Estel grumbled, coming along his other side and pulling his brother's arm over his shoulder. "Come, we need to get you to the Palace."

Scouts and stable hands dealt with the horses ("I swear to you, they will have the very best attention," Legolas had promised) so they made their way slowly up towards the Palace entrance. Elrohir took his twin's weight as Estel and Legolas walked on either side, listening to Elladan's ranting for the length of the journey.

When they finally ascended the steps to the entrance hall, two or three elves were waiting their with blankets and towels for the dripping foursome. Lómë's worried voice unleashed continuous questions as to their comfort.

"I'm soak to the bone, freezing cold and my brother was assaulted," Estel snapped finally, his patience starting to wear thin. The maid looked crest fallen, and Legolas pierced him with a level stare.

"I was just"-

"I know Lómë, I know," Estel sighed. "Please, forgive me; this has been a very trying day." A wry smile crossed his lips as she squeezed him arm comfortingly.

"There is nothing to forgive," she smiled.

"I do not need carrying!" Elladan's voice bellowed. Estel rolled his eyes.

"He is not the only one, my friend," Legolas pointed out; "If you do not get out of those wet clothes soon you will find a cold."

"The term is catch a cold, Legolas," Estel replied, "We mortals may have strange ways, but we do not go looking for illnesses; they find us."

"Either way," the Prince continued, undeterred, "You should go and have a warn bath and change before we discuss this further. You may use my bathroom again if you like."

"No! – No, that's fine Legolas," the Ranger answered a little too quickly. Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Thank you, but its fine." He forced a smile to his lips, though the memory of his last time in that room made him want to do anything but.

"Very well; off you go then. Your brother will be fine, I believe Lómë has gone to fetch some of his dry clothes now. The healers will glance him over to make sure he is as fit as he protests, then he will be free to go."

"I would not say that too loudly if I were you," Estel warned.

Legolas shook his head. "Off with you; you are making a mess on my floor!"

Estel laughed but sure enough, looking down, he saw a large puddle forming at his feet, fed by the constant influx from his saturated garments.

A few minutes later and he had left the chaos of the entrance hall behind – Elladan was not going quietly – and dripping his way along to his room. He was unbuckling his sword sheath when he turned the corner in the corridor, and so did not see it straight away – but a loud bang made him jump in surprise. His door was flung open, throwing itself against the wall with ravish energy in the roaring wind pouring from his room. Estel froze; he may not have locked his door, but he sure as Ilúvatar locked the windows…

Stepping carefully forwards, he peered around the doorway into his chambers, to find that chaos he had left downstairs was nothing to that which had erupted here. His clothes were strewn capriciously across the floor and the bed sheets were ripped and torn apart, littering the empty chest of draws. He stood shell shocked for a moment as the shutters on the windows swung as furiously as the door, sending the curtains in a cascade of green towards him. Even his bed side table had been over turned and completely emptied! He stepped gingerly into the havoc, not wanting to disturb anything – wait; _completely emptied?_

Bolting across the room, he hauled the table upright, its draw dangling uselessly. Panicking slightly, he ran his fingers over the floor around where it had fallen, under the tossed rugs and bed, but it was nowhere to be found; the lily flower was missing.

-----

**That flower is very useful for ending chapters with you know. Very much so in fact.**

**So what say you? Remember this isn't beta-d, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone.**

**Please review!**

**Reviewer Replies**

**sielge**** – Thank you! Ah, the mysterious elf… Well, he's beginning to make himself known, shall we say. Hope you enjoyed this chapter too!**

**Star-Stallion – Lol, ahhhhh flowers are everywhere! ITS ATTACK OF THE FLOWERS! Lol! OoOoOoOo, we could put flowers in Twilight – or then again, maybe not… Love ya!**

**Mellaithwen**** – I'm glad you liked the way the way the twins are, coz they're a bloody bugger to writer at times! I just see Elrohir as easy going and gentle, so I could picture him sitting like that and thought I'd share it with ya'll. Oh and it was "I hope" my dear, seconds guess was write – but did she ever finish what she wanted to say? What was she going to say?!?! Dun dun duuunn! Infidelity in the subject, but as for the Queen – who knows??? Only time – and I! – will tell. Love ya!**

**moonshine44**** – Eeek sorry if you think I take a long time! I'll try to keep it to two weeks at the maximum, be as a general rule it will probably be every week and a half or so that I update, depending on coursework status. Glad you like it!**

**Encaitarince**** - hides Lol sorry! I know it seems a while but actually… Should only be in about a week and a half now, or something like that. Yay originality! I'm glad you think so, unless similar stories are well written (bows down to Cassia) then they can get rather tedious… Love ya!**

**HarryEstel**** – Ah, aren't we the little prophetess? Lol I'm glad SOMEONE thought it was a fast update; it was like lighting compared to what I'm normally like, trust me! Thankee!**

**Lindele**** – The secret is – Lol, erm, don't think so! Thankee!**

**Tori**** – Aha! And you must keep that quiet my dear – the Thranduil and the Queen's death thing – for we don't want the others getting clues as well! Very perceptive of you though. Lol trust me, the West End is a vvvveerrryyy rare occurrence, but I love it when we go. I love ****London**** really, I'm really lucky to live so close. Lol hope this chapter was… merry enough for you.**

**grumpy**** – Yes eating is aaallllllwaaaayyys a good thing. Well the storm has arrived, but has it yet passed? ponders**

**Velvet12**** – Heya! Glad you're enjoying it, as to the mysterious elf, all will be revealed, just hang in there!**

**Joshua Nenya – Wow, glad you thought so. Lol I'm glad someone hasn't developed a fear of flowers… I would hate to think I had created a new paranoia in people! Ah ****Ireland****! I'm half Irish but I've never been there :( I would love to go though, especially on a riding holiday. Their horses are amazing, no fair. Hope you enjoyed this one too!**

**Loadsa love, Estel xxx**


	6. Someone in our Midst

**Disclaimer:**** Well if by some insane miracle you're all still with me, then you'd know there are several characters that I own; but if you think you've read it elsewhere before, then unfortunately it probably belongs to Tolkien… damn…**

A/N: OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY! I bow down to you all and beg for forgiveness that I do not deserve! But I do have valid reasons, I assure you. Those reasons would be three pieces of GCSE coursework one after the other… Especially when you leave all three to the last month! BAD IDEA. And now I've got my mock exams… So I thought that instead of letting you all think I'd abandoned this or else died, I'd post what I've been able to do. Something important you must remember: THIS CHAPTER IS NOT FINISHED. I'm just posting what I have until the end of January when I can finish this chapter completely, savvy? Sorry!

Oh, and big thanks to all those who keep bugging me about continuing this – it did help!

**UPDATE – Can you believe it! I've actually finished this chapter! And its turned out to be a monster as well… I didn't actually intend for it to end the way it does, but I guess what I had in store will just have to wait! Enjoy!**

**---**

**Chapter Six – Someone in our midst**

"It was a diversion," Elrohir said simply, his voice calm as he ran a hand through his dark hair.

"Yes, but who?" demanded Elladan, pacing the room in short sharp steps. Estel shook his head wearily, rolling his eyes.

"If we knew that, we"-

"Estel, please," Elrohir interrupted before his brother said something just as unhelpful as his last comment.

"It must be someone who would know the goings on in the Palace quite well – our leaving was a quiet affair, and not known to many." Elladan stared down at his twin who sat on a chair, one leg crossed over his knee. Elrohir frowned and nodded in agreement.

"That would bring the total to a very small number though, Dan," he reminded, eyebrows raised.

"I know," the elder twin nodded. "Not more than about seven I should say. Legolas, Lómë, Rómen, The King, Tirmor, Celebfin and that assistant of Tirmor's… the red-haired one."

"And I would hardly say that The King had a hand in it," Estel put in. "And Celebfin was at the Gate the whole time, and Lómë stayed in the Palace all day, so that's now four that knew."

"None of them could be counted as suspects though, surely?" Elrohir asked, his eyes following his brother's footsteps. When the eldest son did not answer, he sought his eyes. "Could they Elladan?"

For a moment, the elf-lord did not answer but stood with furrowed brow, a slender hand stroking his chin. "I do not see why they should be ruled out," he said at last. Estel was aghast.

"You cannot actually believe that can you?" he asked shocked. "That even Rómen could be responsible?" He refused to even think it.

"I do not want to, Estel, but at this point we cannot afford to eliminate any possibilities. I do however very much doubt that he has had anything to do with it." Still, his eyes did not quite convey the surety that his voice held.

"It is perfectly possible that our assailant merely heard us leaving, or heard someone else talking," Elrohir put in logically. "Far more likely in fact than any of them being suspects."

All three nodded and fell silent for a moment. Estel looked around his now salvaged room; as soon as he had found the lily missing, he had gone straight to Elrohir and informed him. Ordinarily, he would have told Legolas too but he wanted to speak to his brother's first, so they had not informed Tirmor and had cleaned the room themselves. When Elladan had returned very much alive – "I am absolutely fine, complete waste of time and energy, I told them, but would they listen?" – they briefed him quickly and now here they were, with no idea where it was all going.

"Do you think we should tell the Prince?" Elrohir posed the question to the quiet.

"No!" Estel answered too quickly. The twins looked at him surprised and he mentally kicked himself; that was something he would have to work on. "No – he has enough on his mind. And besides, there is something else I need to tell you," his voice dropped to a whisper, "About the flower."

At once both twins were by his side on the bed, still listening.

"You remember when you found me dreaming, Ro?" Estel reminded him tentatively. He knew that what he was about to say could change everything. "When I first told you about the lily and the lullaby?"

The younger twin nodded but kept his quiet, so the young Ranger continued.

"Well I told you some – but I did not tell you of that dream. It was – strange." He frowned. This was hard to explain. "In the dream, there was an elf and she-elf and they were fighting over… something. I cannot be sure, but I think he loved her but she could not or would not return his love. She said she had to stand by her oaths to her husband and her country and her son. And he said that he did too. He said that his oath was if he could not love Nimlothnen, Queen of Mirkwood, then nobody could. Then he hit her and she struggled, but he had a knife…" He trailed off, deliberately avoiding his brothers' eyes. "But I heard her last words – "Amin estel."

Elladan let out a long sigh and sat back, keeping his eyes on his mortal brother. Elrohir tilted his head to the side slightly, frowning.

"Nimlothnen, Queen of Mirkwood?" Elladan echoed finally. "Those are strong words indeed Estel. Are you sure you do not mistake yourself?"

"Positive." Estel felt an awful sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach…

"A knife? But how… Did you actually see these people in your dream?" Elrohir questioned.

"No," the young man confessed, "I saw only their shadows and heard their voices."

The briefest of glances was exchanged between the twins. "You are sure of this?" Elladan asked him, his voice more sombre than Estel could ever remember.

The ranger decided that he didn't trust his voice any more, so he merely nodded in consent.

"This is very serious," he murmured, turning away to lean on his elbows on his knees. "It must be impossible."

"Not impossible," Elrohir said quietly, watching Estel closely. "Not impossible. You forget who he is, brother."

"Even so, this is somewhat.. farfetched, is it not?"

"You do not believe me, do you?" Estel felt devastated; he had been sure they would listen…

"It is not impossible," Elrohir held stubbornly. "It may be because of who he is and what we are not that he has come to see these things."

Both of his brothers starred at him with looks of utter confusion written across their faces.

"The Eldar have the power and freedom to choose through which dreams they wander; mortals do not have that. Perhaps there is a power trying to tell us something; you could have been influenced by outside force, Aragorn."

Elrohir's use of his true name made the human man start slightly. "Because of who I am…?"

"You are granted with some of the gift of foresight, just as we are," Elladan put in, thinking he could see where his twin was headed. "Mayhap something happened, and you are not being affected by what is _going_ to happened, but by what has _already_ happened."

"Is that even possible?" Estel asked incredulously. The twins shrugged. "Even were it as you say, the elves are more attuned to the voices of the world than I."

"Perhaps these elves have heard this voice so many times that they cannot hear it any more," Elrohir suggested sadly. "It could explain why when you tried to show me the lily at first, I could not detect it though you saw it as plain and as easily as day."

Aragorn pondered a while at the thought when a sudden idea sent a chill through his bones.

"Let us imagine that what you say is true; that I have seen what was, and not what will be; that a power is trying to tell me something, to warn me – that I saw the Queen of Mirkwood murdered. Her body was never found – that means her murderer is still free within the boundaries of the Kingdom."

For a horrible minute, all three brothers felt the full implications of this revelation dawn on them. Elladan shuddered.

"_Listen to these walls_," Elrohir breathed. "Those were your words Estel, its what you yourself said. _Listen to these walls_."

"Of course," Elladan whispered. "That's what you've been doing Estel – listening to the walls! The events and sounds of times past are being replayed to you because the walls themselves remember them. They are repeating them to you. They are warning you."

A pause.

"The attack today was meant for me," Estel said hoarsely.

"No," Elladan spoke, "No; even in today's weather, there is no way that an archer from Mirkwood could have his arrow stray so far as to miss its target by such a distance. Those darts struck exactly where they were meant to – it was a warning. We know too much."

A loud knock at the door made all three of them jump – not even the elven ears of the twins had heard anyone coming.

"Who is there?" Elladan was the elf-lord now, not the strong brother and his voice was commanding and regal.

"My lords, it is Tirmor," came the reply. The tension that had unnoticeably built up in the room was blown away swiftly as all three sighed.

"Then enter sir," Elladan answered and Elrohir rose to his feet beside him.

The door came open with a soft click and the dark-haired serving elf stepped into the room. His eyes were as warm as his smile and a letter was in his hand.

"My lords," he greeted them respectfully, dipping his head, a gesture that the twins echoed. "The Prince asked that I inform you that dinner will shortly be served in the hall; he requests that you come though only if you feel you are able." Elladan snorted indignantly and Elrohir rolled his eyes, prompting for Tirmor to continue. "I was also given this," he said frowning, and handing a piece of folded yellow parchment over to them. Elrohir took it with mild interest; the wax seal was of a dark tower and he did not recognise it. The handwriting in which was scrawled their names was scratchy and thin.

"Who gave you this?" he asked, turning it over in his hands to study the outside.

"I fear I cannot answer that my lords," the elf smiled apologetically, "I found it in the lower levels near the entrance hall, by the guards meeting area. Seeing it was addressed to you, I thought it best to bring it here. I hope I have not done wrong?"

"No; no of course not, sir. We thank you," Elladan told him graciously and with another dip of his head, the elf of Mirkwood turned to leave. Yet just as he had stepped through the doorway he paused a second and turned, surveying the room discretely.

"Is there something else, Tirmor?" Elrohir asked.

"I do not know my lords – perhaps these words will make more sense to you than to I, but Captain Rómen met me briefly on my way here, and requested that I pass on a message. He said you knew where he was if you needed help clearing up this mess." Tirmor frowned and shook his dark head, another smile back on his face. "Yet Captain Rómen is well known for his jests; may I presume this is a private joke?"

"Yes – yes, I believe you have it there, sir," Elladan said, returning the smile quickly. "I think we know what he means. Thank you."

With a final nod, Tirmor turned and strode up the corridor and out of sight. Elladan waited until he was completely out of earshot before he locked the door with another soft 'click' and wheeled to face his brothers, not even a remnant left of his smile.

"What was that about?" Estel aired the question they were all thinking.

"I do not know, Estel," Elladan murmured, his face troubled. "Clearing up this mess… Did either of you mention the sack of this room to anyone?"

"None," replied Elrohir, still clutching the letter. Estel shook his head. "What is on your mind brother?"

Elladan chewed his lip, his eyes narrowed. "I am not yet sure; let us read the letter before I explain."

With deft fingers, Elrohir broke the wax seal and unfolded the parchment. The tea-coloured paper crackled softly as he smoothed it out. It was empty but for a simple note;

_Terrible weather today, was it not? The true storm is yet to come. Watch your footing on the ground._

It was signed off with the same dark tower that had graced the seal; one main tall turret with black long windows.

All three glanced between the words and each other. Estel swallowed loudly.

"What does that mean?" he asked tentatively.

"It means what we feared," sighed Elladan. "Today was indeed a warning, and a minor one they would have us believe. We need to be very careful."

Elrohir nodded. "But what do you make of the message, brother?" he questioned, dreading the answer.

"I told you we could not eliminate any possibility," he replied solemnly.

"You cannot think that Rómen is behind all of this!" Estel hissed sharply.

"Then how did he know about this room?" Elladan countered brusquely. "How did he know there would be a mess to clear up?"

"He may have been referring to you for all we know!" Estel retorted, his voice rising slightly.

"Peace, the pair of you," Elrohir cut in firmly. "This will get us nowhere. Estel, Dan is right; the circumstances are somewhat suspicious, and there is no use in you denying that. By the same token Dan, Estel has a fair point – do not leap to drastic conclusions just yet, I beg of both of you."

Elf and man nodded, shelving stubbornness for now. "Forgive me brother," Estel sighed, "I fear I am snapping more than I should be today." Yet Elladan brushed it aside with an elegant wave of his hand that said, "It is already forgotten."

"Well, now that this has been settled – at least for the moment – I propose that we join the others for dinner. Perhaps a little sustenance will help us all see a little clearly," he said, in an imitation so like to his father that Estel had to stifle a smile.

As they left the room, Estel made sure the arrow he had taken from the tree was hidden safely under a loose floorboard and Elrohir folded the note and kept it in his pocket. After double checking that the door was locked, they made their way down to the lower levels and across the Palace towards the Great Hall.

As they entered a wall of warmth engulfed them like a storm, and Estel was grateful to see that seven of the twelve great hearths in the hall were blazing already. The long table was set and laden with starter dishes, and from a doorway at the far end of the hall servants were bringing up the main course from the kitchens. At the chair to the right of the head of the table, Legolas rose to his feet when he saw them coming, as did Rómen who sat at his left side, but the King was not present. A friendly smile graced the Prince's fair elven face and the Captain seemed to watch them carefully as they came over, Estel thought fleetingly, but dismissed the notion just as swiftly.

"My friends," Legolas dipped his head respectfully as they drew near, "I hope you are somewhat recovered from your ordeal today?"

"Thank you for your words, Legolas," Elladan replied graciously, "I believe we are all fine, though still just as perplexed as ever we were."

Motioning for them to be seated opposite them, he frowned and nodded in accord. "You have no idea then from where this attack may have stemmed?"

"None – so far as we know, we have not gravely offended anyone – least ways, not enough so to prompt this kind of assault we would hope." Estel began heaping a pile of steaming boiled potatoes onto his plate.

"We already have scouts tracing your path from this afternoon," Rómen informed them as he delicately put a leafy salad onto his own platter. "But I fear the weather here has set its will against us. It is unlikely we will find much, though the hounds are out even as we speak."

"So late?" Elrohir wondered, a spoon full of soup half way to his mouth.

"Well, they have been gone since you returned at least; it may be they are within the Palace ground again now." His emerald eyes glittered apologetically. "I cannot help but to feel there is more that I could have done to prevent this "-

"We'll hear no such things," Elladan stopped him; "One cannot control the thoughts and actions of all within so large a kingdom. To think you could do so would be folly – and to hold yourself responsible for the act of one who is too cowardly to come forward even more so. Do not fear; we are warned now, and shall be on our guard."

"But the very point of the matter is that you should not have to be," Legolas sighed. "It is all very well for you to preach so my friend, but you are not a Prince, and this is not your Kingdom." He smiled sadly. "Everyone knows its to leaders that the blame falls, whether they will it or not."

"Do not worry for us, Legolas," Estel reassured him, "Not even me; I'm all grown up now you know – I tie my own boots and everything."

Legolas laughed lightly, whilst Elladan and Rómen snorted into their food unceremoniously. Elrohir simply rolled his eyes and carried on eating.

The rest of the evening passed without any ostentatious activities – their moods, though well meant, were somewhat dampened by more than just the rain outside. And still, despite himself and the reassurance of Elrohir, Estel could not help but to look at Rómen and wonder every now and again on the words of Elladan… then he would remember himself and turn hastily to his food.

The King made no appearance for the whole of dinner. Legolas begged forgiveness for his absence several times over, until Elladan told him that he sounded like a foreigner who had learnt only a few lines of Silvan and just kept repeating them. Estel could see that the days events troubled his friend greatly; yet he kept his peace, for although he would like nothing better than to ease such a burden he knew that telling him what his brothers knew would only bring more grief – and perhaps even put him in danger.

Towards the end of the meal, Rómen rose to his feet and pleaded pardons.

"I fear I must leave you now – by this hour the scouts will surely have returned, and I will need to find out what they have learned, if anything, if we are to find the culprit to blame for the assault."

"Indeed, my friend; and I shall come with you –" Legolas began, but Rómen shook his head.

"No, your Majesty – this is the duty of the Captain of the Guard. I will report to you any information I can gather; which reminds me – Estel, I believe you took the second arrow from the tree, did you not?"

"I left it upstairs, hidden to keep it safe," Estel nodded, and immediately felt the eyes of his brothers on him. "You have the first though, I believe? The one pulled from Flame?"

"I do, but it is good to know these things. If you'll excuse me," and bowing swiftly, he turned and left the hall by a side door.

"He works himself hard on our behalf," Elrohir stated.

"He is hard working by nature; mostly on the behalves of others," Legolas smiled. "But come; I would have us play a game of chess before the night is old. I find it helps to settle my mind."

So having thanked the servants and asking them to pass compliments onto the cooks, they made their way upwards through the palace towards Legolas' chambers. Estel and the Prince walked in front as the twins fell instep behind, and the young Ranger was able to ask a question he had been wondering over for some time.

"Legolas, does your father know what happened today?"

Legolas remained silent for a few moments. "This is his kingdom; there is little that happens which he does not know of." He sighed. "I do not know where he is now; when I told him he went very quiet – in case you were wondering, this is not usually a very good sign," he half-smiled. Mostly because I promised you would cause no more trouble, he thought to himself; and although you did not cause this, you were involved, which was enough to his reasoning. However, he kept these thoughts within his own mind.

Legolas' rooms were every bit as Estel remembered them – but then, the elf was one of the most organised people he knew. As they seated themselves around the small table, Legolas pulled a heavy looking chess set from a chest.

"Carved from mahogany," he said with some pride, "By my father, for my 500th birthday; the white pieces are mallorn tree, the black ones ebony. Beautiful, is it not?"

And indeed, when laid out, not one of the three brothers could claim otherwise, for it was a most intricately striking gaming board, carven obviously with great care and effort.

The four of them took sides; Elrohir and Legolas as white, Elladan and Estel as black, and for an hour managed to put behind them the days events. Estel felt the muscles he had not even known were tensed relaxing as he eased himself into a sense of warmth and comfort. They would speak more in the morning he knew, for all things looked better under the light of day.

"Check," Elladan smiled triumphantly, manoeuvring his Queen into place directly before the gleaming white King.

Elrohir sat leaning back with his arms folded over his chest, chewing his lower lip and staring at he board as though willing the Queen to disappear. Legolas however, gazed calmly back to the elder twin and slipped a knight out from the corner of the board. With a hop, a skip and a jump, he knocked the Queen over and placed the rearing horse protectively in front of his King. Elladan stared at it in astonishment, shocked he had not seen such a simple move coming. Estel unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh at his brother's wide-eyed expression.

"Fine!" Elladan snorted, "You move next time!"

Elrohir rolled his eyes at his twins competitive nature, and watched Estel's hand hovering over the board, evaluating the situation. The few black pieces left to him of any use were a bishop, two knights, a rook and of course, his own King – the latter though was guarded safely at the other end of the board by three sole surviving pawns. Estel eyed the position of the rook, frowning in thought.

"I can hear the cogs going around…" Elladan whispered dramatically, drawing quiet laughs from the other two.

Estel chose to ignore him with dignity, in so far as swiftly kicking him under the table. He shifted his hand to his second knight, positioned perfectly to take out the white knight protecting the King – it would, however, be a suicide mission as he would then be liable to the King's wrath. His eye came to rest on the rook again – something in his head was nagging at him, and he couldn't quite figure out why. He studied the possible moves for the piece once more, the tall dark tower a prominent player on the board. He stared out the tower, trying to decipher its secrets. _There's something here_, his mind was telling him; _there's something here – but what_?

Then it clicked; grinning to himself, Estel swept the rook along the board and brought it to a halt two squares behind the opposing King. Legolas breathed in sharply as Elladan's eyes unclouded and he patted his brother on the back. "I knew that grey matter of yours would attempt to prove itself one of these days!" he winked.

Legolas shook his head in disbelief, though he knew that by now he shouldn't really be surprised; this was an old trick of his, one Estel had seen him use many times, and he had finally caught him at his own game. His King was now surrounded on all sides; the rook could get him from behind; if he moved right, he stood in the path of a knight; if he moved left, he stood in the path of a bishop – and if he moved forward, so would the rook. Looking up at his human friend, he saw a victorious glint in his eye as he mouthed the words "Check mate."

Legolas shook his head again, and knocked his King over in submission. He surrendered – he had lost.

"Well played," he said courteously, knowing he had been fairly beaten at his own game. Elrohir sat laughing as Elladan exalted in another win. He always won when they played at home – but then he was so competitive, Elrohir seldom tried to fight him; it only ever ended in tantrums.

Estel began to feel the late hour taking its toll and muffled a yawn with his hand.

"I quite agree," Legolas nodded at him as he collected the pieces together and folded the board away. "We are all in need of rest after today – I will take you down to your rooms, I need to see Rómen before I turn in anyway."

The statement brought the current situation back to them all, and the weight that had momentarily been lifted became a burden once more.

As they wound their way downwards through the Palace, Elladan continued to congratulate his little brother on the striking move – "Of course I was never worried, I saw it coming all along" – while Legolas quietly told Elrohir he would pass their rooms again on his way back up and relay to them any news that the Captain reported back to him.

As the twins disappeared into their room, Elladan still gloating at an only mildly interested twin, Legolas waited a moment as Estel went to enter his. Sensing the hesitation, Estel titled his head in question. Legolas sighed, shaking his head.

"I do not know how today came about…but I swear to you, I will not rest until the culprit is found and duly punished." His voice held a emphatic tone and his bright blue eyes burned like flames. "This obscenity should never have occurred and I assure you, it will never happen again. Not while I live."

Estel felt a slight uneasiness at the Prince's words, but put a comforting hand on his shoulder. His knew that should place be reversed and it had all happened in Rivendell, he wouldn't have slept until the matter was resolved. But then Legolas was a Prince and far more conserved about these matters.

"I know my friend," he said softly, "I know."

With a swift nod, Legolas turned and vanished down the shadowy stairwell into the lower levels of the Palace. Wishing that he could just wake up and find it had all been a dream, Estel opened his door and slipped inside his chambers. Glancing around quickly, he saw all was as he had left it earlier – well the cupboard draws were open, but that could have been any of them. Moving toward his bed, he began unbuttoning his shirt when he saw something that made his heart skip a beat.

The floorboard had moved.

The arrow was gone.

He knew, almost before he even opened his mouth to shout for his brothers, that there was someone – some_thing_ behind him, but he did not possess elven reflexes. He could not turn in time.

A blinding pain exploded out from the base of his head, sending showers of golden stars across his vision. He fell to his knees, with world swaying like a storm around him. The second hit sent him reeling to the floor in a heap, unconsciousness closing in fast – the third hit brought on total blackness and he knew no more.

0-0-0-

Legolas glided effortlessly down the stairs, sliding through the shadows with graceful stealth. At the foot of the stairwell he reached the grand entrance hall and was glad to see the heavy doors bolted shut against the storm, keeping the pounding rain and howling wind out – and them inside.

The corridor across the hall led downwards further still, down into the quarters where the Royal Guard slept, ate and organised their tactical plans. It was here that he hoped to find Rómen, possibly in consultation with his guard over evidence and plans of action. At least, that's what he expected to find.

But when he entered the underground chamber, Rómen was nowhere to be seen. Pausing, the Prince glanced around the room just to make sure. He always felt a sense of awe in this room, known formally as _The Pinnacle of the Guard_ – though by most of the Kingdom, it was referred to as the _Oval Chamber_. As its names suggested, it was indeed a vast oval shape and the centre of all the intelligence communications within the Palace and the Kingdom. It was here that the Royal Guard met with the main military leaders in the realm to discuss battle tactics and safety precautions to protect the Royal Family. The main piece of the room was a huge circular table, made of mallorn wood from Lothlorien. Engraved in the middle was the royal coat of arms, entwined with the badge of the Guard. Around the great rim of the table were 21 seats; twenty were plainly adorned oak chairs with black velvet cushions, but the final chair was more akin to a throne. Made of finally polished and etched elm, it was far grander than any of the others and the red velvet cushions were embroidered with green and gold patterns. The seats of each of the twenty Royal Guards and the chair for the King himself. Legolas could hardly forget that it had been here his grandfather had made the decision to join the War at the end of the Second Age – a decision that would lead to his death.

The shape of the room itself was also said to be especially chosen – the many doors leading off from it were different only in the subtlest of ways, made to confuse and command respect from all who stood within it. Yet tonight the smoothly curving walls revealed no Captain of the Royal Guard, much to the Prince's dismay. Just as he was turning to leave, a door to his left opened and the newest addition to the Royal Guard stepped in. His soft hazel eyes went wide as he saw his Prince.

"Your Majesty," he said awkwardly, feeling stupid at being caught off guard – oh, the irony!

"Culfin – have you seen Captain Rómen at all?" Legolas enquired.

"No, my Lord; when last I saw him, he was to join you at dinner. I presume then that he did?" The young Guard felt proud to have the Prince address him by name – then almost immediately felt stupid again. _I'm part of the Royal Guard; he's going to know who his own protection is!_

Legolas nodded, skilfully hiding a smile from the obviously slightly nervous new recruit. "He did, yes – but did he not return to these levels after? He said he was to check up on the scouts coming back in from the forest."

Culfin looked confused. "No, my Lord; I presumed he had retired with yourself and Lords Elladan and Elrohir."

Legolas stood silent for a moment, confused. _Where is he then? Why would he tell me he was to do one thing, then do another altogether?_

"My Lord?" Culfin prompted.

"A word of advice, Culfin," Legolas sighed; "Never presume anything. Goodnight – and if Rómen does return, can you send him to my chambers please?"

Culfin nodded eagerly. "Of course, your Majesty. Goodnight."

He turned and left, feeling ever so slightly surreal.

Legolas remained a moment. He was still thinking it all over in his mind. _Perhaps he was engaged on his way down here…_

He glanced to the third door on his right – the Captain's Chambers. Surely it could do no harm? There might be information there that Rómen had left.

Making up his mind, the Prince entered the room and closed the door quietly behind him with a soft click. The chamber was dimly lit; the solitary candle on the desk at the far corner was burning low, the wax hissing as it spluttered around the flame.

"Rómen?" Legolas called unhopefully. He did not expect to find the Captain down here.

Starting to the desk, he was halfway there when a luminescent glow to his right caught his eye. A door was partly ajar, letting a silver-white glow through into the office in a thin slither. Gazing at it, Legolas thought he perceived it…_moving_… as though the source of the light was fluctuating. Stepping carefully towards it, the soft leather of his boots made no sound on the carpeted floor. He pushed the door open ever so gently, letting his eyes adjust to the bright light. As he pushed the door open fully, a sight so bizarre met his eyes that he felt his jaw drop.

Something was hovering in mid-air, twirling lightly as it emitted a silvery radiance. Stepping closer, Legolas squinted, trying to see past the light to the actual object, and discovered the strangest thing of all.

_A white flower?_ Legolas was bewildered – he was no botanist, but he'd never heard of flying, _glowing_ flowers before. He could feel his heart rate increasing as his senses went on full alert without even thinking about it. He thought he could hear a voice now too… A woman's voice – oddly familiar…

_"See the white stars shining now,_

_In the sky,_

_Of the night…"_

Legolas felt his throat tighten and his blood run cold – those words, that melody… so familiar that they sent a chill down his spine…

_"See them shining clear and bright…"_

"For their Fair Lady," Legolas whispered. He suddenly felt sick and icy cold – he wanted nothing more than to run from that place, run and run and run and never look back; but something had frozen him to the spot.

The pulsating glow of the flower suddenly erupted into a blinding light, so that Legolas had to shield his eyes. Yet through the sheer radiance was saw something else – shadows against a wall for only a fleeting second, and the muffled last words of a woman as she died. For he knew she was dying – he could sense the blood, almost smell it.

"Amin estel… in adan…"

As suddenly as it had come, the light was gone. Plunged into darkness, the Prince could not see anything. He stood there in a cold sweat, his breathing fast and shallow, hands balled into tight fists. As the shadows began to diminish, he stared down at the floor, still breathing heavily. Droplets ran down his face.

There on the floor was the flower – a lily. And shot through it, were the two arrows that had been fired at Elladan that afternoon.

0-0-0-

Elrohir knew something wrong. He didn't know how he knew it, but he didn't question it either – he had long ago learnt to trust his instincts, no matter how insane the notions seemed. Pulling his robe tight around his night clothes, he slipped his boots on as Elladan re-entered the room.

"The bath chamber is free"- he began, but stopped short when he saw Elrohir lacing up his boots. "What in the name of Eru are you doing?"

"Following a hunch," Elrohir muttered, rising to his feet. "I'll only be a moment."

Knowing his twin was watching him with a mixture of concern and confusion, he exited the chamber and made the short journey to Estel's room and knocked softly on the door.

Nothing.

"Estel?" he called. "Its Elrohir."

Again, nothing.

He knocked again, harder this time, but still there was no reaction. He felt the sudden presence of his brother at his side.

"What is it?" Elladan asked seriously. "What can you feel?"

"I cannot say… I am just uneasy." Elrohir pushed at the door, only to find it unmoving. perplexed, he did it again, using more force.

"What is it?" Elladan repeated.

"Its locked…" Elrohir murmured, gazing at the door in mystification.

"Estel _never_ locks his door."

"I know."

A rustling at the other end of the corridor made them both spin around. Heading towards them were Tirmor and Lómë, both with night robes wrapped tightly around them.

"My Lords?" Tirmor greeted them with bafflement. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

_We could say the same for you_, Elrohir thought darkly, but kept it to himself.

"We are looking for the Prince," Lómë said as though reading the twin's mind. Her emerald eyes were brimming with worry and her golden hair was tousled as though she had been sleeping. "He has not yet returned to his chambers. Do you no where we might find him?"

"He said he was going down to find Rómen, not half an hour ago," Elladan answered.

Lómë nodded thankfully, a flicker of a smile passing over her face. "And you? What keeps you so late?"

Elrohir mouthed wordlessly at the door. "Our brother – we need to speak with him, but his door is locked and he does not answer."

"At this hour, he may well be asleep, my Lords," Tirmor pointed out. "Especially after such a day."

"Perhaps – but Estel has never once locked his door, not since he was a small child." Elrohir remembered the incident well – Estel had thrown a tantrum and run upstairs, locking himself in his room. Except that several hours later, when he decided he wanted to come out again he discovered he had lost the key. It had sent him into a panic attack that had almost made him jump out of the window but their father had got to him just in time. Since then, Estel had been very wary of locks.

"We could open it for you," Lómë offered, her kind nature shining through even when the starlight could not. "We have a spare set of keys."

"You do?" Elladan remarked surprised.

"Of course – we need to be able to access the rooms to clean and prepare them," she explained. "Tirmor has the spare set, do you not?"

The dark haired elf nodded in acquiescence and fished the hefty ring of keys from his pocket. "I have no qualms about letting you use these," he said, picking his words carefully as he sifted through the keys for the correct one, "But I would thank you kindly if you did not mention it; they are not meant to me used unless the case is extreme."

"I would call this extreme," Elladan replied with a side long glance at his twin. From the expression on Tirmor's face though, Elrohir could see the long time servant was not so sure.

After a couple of moments, a shadow passed across Tirmor's face. "Impossible…" he muttered.

"What is?" Lómë asked. "It's there, isn't it?"

"I cannot see…" He lifted the ring of keys up into better light with a jingling, his swift eyes searching them all with the efficiency born of years of experience. He turned to the twins, baffled. "My Lords… it is not here!"

"What?" Elladan demanded sharply.

"I cannot explain it – Lómë, you used it only today, did you not?"

"Yes sir; but I never removed it from the ring, I swear it…" She looked worried again, her face a shade paler.

The twins took one look at one another and silently agreed.

"Can you step back a moment please," Elrohir asked of the other two, as he and his brother aligned themselves with the door several paces back.

"My Lords, what are you doing?" Tirmor question.

They didn't answer; instead, with vigour born of a sense of dread, they ran and slammed their shoulders forcefully into the door. Lómë gave a soft cry of surprise as it trembled, but did not give.

"My Lords, please!" Tirmor cried. "You will hurt yourselves grievously before that door gives way"-

Again, they didn't answer but took a second run at the door; this time, their was a definite groaning, but the lock held fast.

"Third time lucky," Elladan muttered, as they pummelled the door for the last time.

Third time lucky indeed; the door groaned in protest but burst open in the face of their onslaught, swinging wildly into the darkened room. Rubbing their shoulders, the twins stepped inside and squinted against the shadows.

"Tirmor, can you bring the torch from the corridor please?" Elrohir requested, turning back to the shocked servant. Lómë gazed at the twin with wide eyes.

"Is he alright? Can you see?"

"Not yet, but"-

"He's in bed, Ro!" Elladan's voice snapped the younger twin around. "Is he alright?" he asked, echoing Lómë's question.

"I cannot say, its too dark – where's that light?"

"Here my Lords," Tirmor reappeared at the door, flooding the room with a warm golden light, revealing the secrets the darkness had kept.

Estel was indeed lying in bed, the covers pulled right up his head. His face was turned away from them, but he did not stir as they entered.

"Is he asleep?" Tirmor wondered aloud.

"If he had been before, there is no way he could have slept through our racket – besides, he's still wearing his boots." Elladan pointed to Estel's left foot, jutting out from beneath the sheets. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the covers down slightly.

"Estel -?"

Elladan's throat seized up. There was a dark, sticky substance drenching the young man's hair. _Please Eru, do not let that be what I think it is…_

"Dan, that's blood!" Elrohir cried in dismay, "Tirmor, quick – go and fetch help!"

FYI – The following replies are from chapter five – I'll do a complete chapter six reply lot with chapter seven. So thanks to all who reviewed for the first half, I'll get back to you soon!

**Reviewer Replies**

**_Mellaithwen_**** – OMG! YOU STOLE THE LILY! Ruuuuude. Lol well I suppose I can forgive you anyway. "I hope--I didn't leave the cooker on" – lmao! Oh that was too good Amy, lol!**

**_Star-Stallion_ – Yo girl! Do you realise its been over a year since we started 'Twilight'? And about eight months since we updated… Lol! And yes, that was very hypocritical…**

**_HarryEstel_**** – I am so sorry I've taken so long to update! But I hope that this will at least go towards my redemption in your eyes… please? Lol!**

**_Lindele_**** – Eeek rain.**** Ah, such inspiration from living in ****England****. Lol yes not having to clean up Estel's room is definitely a bonus!**

**_Coolio02_**** – I know, a missing flower, dun dun DUH! Glad you like it – though sorry I didn't post sooner! (hides)**

**_Tinnuial_**** – Wow I'm glad it seemed to grab you! Sorry you've had to wait so long for an update… but at least there's _something_ here now.**

**_elitenscwein_**** – So sorry I didn't update sooner! But I'm glad you're enjoying the story, hope this will do for now! More to come soon, I promise.**

**_grumpy_**** – Lol I'm glad you picked up on the finding a cold bit, I was rather proud of that… Ha! Well if I see any wet elves smelling of flowers I'll be sure to let you know!**

**_Amelie_**** – Lol I'm glad you like it, but sorry you had to wait so long for an update…**

**_Encaitarince_**** – I would like to actually throw myself at your feet and mercy; I neither updated this, nor Second Star! I'm so sorry! But I really have been busy with school work of late, honestly. But I have some here!**

**_Joshua Nenya_ – I am so sorry I have taken to long to update! Wow you drift into another world when you read my story? Now that's a lovely compliment if ever I saw one. Sorry you've had to wait so long for this chapter, but what with exams… Speaking of which, I had my German speaking test today. One big disaster after another… Lol!**

**_moonshine44_**** – Yay another horse lover! I love the twins too, though I favour Elrohir over Elladan, the opposite to you… Mmmnn…**

**_crazyAZNkid_**** – Eeek! Sorry I took so long!**

**_Joy_**** – I think I can quite honestly say that yours was the reviews that made me shift my lazy arse into gear and start writing again. Did I say lazy? I meant busy, busy of course…**

**_washow_**** – Yep, you would be another one who really made me think that I should carry on with this story. Thank you for your comment, because it was a real motivator!**

**By the way, has any one here read "A Song of Ice and Fire" by George R R Martin?**

**Loadsa love, Estel xxx**


	7. Loose Ends

**Disclaimer:**** Unfortunately, I seem to be hitting a recurring problem – that being that most of this story does not belong to me! Annoying really, but that's life… Life! Don't talk to me about life…**

**A/N****: Wowzers, can you believe what a fast update this is! Well, since I completed chapter six I mean of course. But considering, I think I've done rather well, so I'll pat myself on the back if ya'll don't mind (does so). But really, thank you to everyone who has stayed with me and my inconsistent updates. It is truly appreciated!**

**Before I let you go, just one thing: I apologise for my awful typos. I know they're all over the place even when I do try to keep them to a minimum, so just grin and bear it!**

**--**

****

**Chapter Seven – Loose ends**

He did not know where he was. He did not know _who_ he was. More to the point, he did not _care_. He suspected that at some point in time, he would have found this knowledge important, vital even – but now… It did not matter. This space, this nothingness in which he now existed was enough to sustain him, and anything that did not exist within the nothingness was itself nothing. Everything about him was relaxed – his limbs were unfeeling, his muscles succumbed completely to the engulfing shadow around him. He felt as though he were a feather suspended in mid-air.

_"Estel…"_The nothingness spoke. Of course it did – the nothingness was everything, so more than just shadow, more than he could comprehend. It all made perfect sense.

_"Estel…"_The voice was quiet, very quiet. Husky and neither male nor female.

_"Listen…" _

Tentatively, with the outer reaches of his mind, Estel sought contact.

I am here he whispered, I'm listening. 

_"Listen… watch…"_

I'm listening… what should I watch? What should I see? 

_"Watch!... And understand what you see…"_

What should I see? Estel repeated. What do I need to understand? As he reached further out, he became aware of a tingling sensation in his fingers and toes.

_"Misinterpretations… innocence was accused once… prevent it…"_

Prevent innocence? Estel wondered. What do you mean? Help me to understand! The tingling was travelling up his arms and legs now, leaving a painfully aware feeling and bringing his mind into sharper focus.

_"Prevent the accusation… the Dark Watcher still walks and He_ sees_…"_The voice was slightly more urgent, as though aware Estel would soon be slipping away.

The Dark Watcher Estel replied in bewilderment, Who is he? What does he see? Please, help me! 

_"Listen! Watch! Save innocence…"_

The pins and needles was wrapping itself around Estel's chest now, restricting his breathing. Light began to appear and the shadow was evaporating fast.

_"Do not let him triumph again… __Amin estel in adan…"_

Wait! Stop! I do not understand! Estel knew there were mere seconds left before the shadow was swiped away by the warm, familiar light flooding him.

_"The shadow of the Tower…"_ The last ragged breath of the speaker was torn apart as the light defeated the dark and threw it back.

No! Stop! Come back! Estel called out frantically, but it was too late. Another voice was calling him now, the annoyingly familiarity of it just out of reach.

"Estel, can you hear me? Wake up Estel, open your eyes…"

Resigned to the source of the light, Estel blearily opened his eyes –

And was almost sent reeling back into unconsciousness as wave after wave of overwhelming pain cascaded through his head. It was like all the dwarves of Moria pounding away mercilessly at the precious ore of his brain, chipping away bit by bit at the priceless veins of knowledge and memory.

"Open your eyes Estel, I can help with the pain," the now recognised voice commanded. Swallowing hard, the young ranger fought the nausea and opened his eyes a little to reveal a distorted and bright world. He squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to pretend the incessant hammering wasn't there. He failed miserably.

"Bright," he croaked, surprised to find his throat parched and dry. Immediately the glow behind his eyelids lessoned and when he opened his eyes this time the experience was much easier to bear. He saw Elladan leant over him, eyes full of concern… at least he thought it was Dan, but the image was so blurred it could have been Ro.

"Get him to drink this," a foreign voice ordered. A glass phial came into view and was pressed against his lips.

"Drink it," one of his brother's whispered. Slowly, Estel opened his lips and let the cooling liquid trickle down his throat. It was bitter but he did not care, nor did he have the strength to do anything about it. Almost at once it seemed, his headache began to fall back to a dull and constant ache and his eyes finally began to focus on the scene around him.

And quite a scene it was.

Elladan and Elrohir were stationed protectively at either side of his bed, leaning over him in obvious concern. At Elladan's right side stood a stranger to Estel, though with the tell-tale golden hair he was most likely of silvan origin. All around him Estel sensed the presence of others, and when the golden-haired elf moved back he saw that members of the Royal Guard lined the room. And to top it off, at the foot of his bed stood King Thranduil of Mirkwood with a face like thunder.

Estel gulped. This was _not_ how he had left things.

"What…?" he left the question hanging in the air, obviously too shocked to form a coherent sentence.

"It's alright Estel. You were attacked, but you're fine now. You're safe," Elrohir soothed, laying a hand on the ranger's forehead.

"Attacked?" Estel echoed in uncertainty.

"Do you remember anything?" Elladan prompted. "Anything that might help us identify your attacker?"

"What? – No…no, I don't…" he trailed off, frowning.

"I think its already blindingly obvious who his attacker was." King Thranduil's gaze was livid, a fire dancing behind cool eyes that made Estel want to recoil.

"With all due respect, your Majesty, we may yet be wrong," Elladan said a little too bluntly. Elrohir flashed him a warning gaze, shaking his head ever so slightly.

"Please Estel," Elrohir said kindly, "Try to remember. You had entered your room as Legolas descended the palace…"

Cogs and wheels somewhere in Estel's mind were thrown into motion. "Yes…" he nodded, though soon stopped when it intensified his headache. "Yes… I came into my room, and found the floorboard removed – where I had hidden the arrow – it was – Ro, it was gone!"

"We know, Estel," Elrohir said, calming him. "What happened next?"

"I – I was hit… from behind." Instinctively, Estel raised a hand to find a bandage wrapped around his head. "Three times… that's all I remember."

There was an awkward silence.

"That's it?" Elladan said, unable to keep the note of disappointment out of his voice.

"He came from behind, I never saw him –"

"He?" Thranduil said sharply. "How do you know it was a male?"

"Oh! – Well… I do not, your Majesty, I presumed."

"And you are sure you can recall no more?" Thranduil's eyes kept flickering to someone behind Elrohir, beyond Estel's range of sight.

Estel wanted desperately to be of more use, but he knew there was nothing more for him to say. He shook his head. Thranduil turned away, running a hand through his hair. For the most fleeting of instants, Estel saw him not as the proud King but as a tired Captain, assaulted from all sides by a force that melted into the darkness, leaving him no trail to follow. As suddenly as it came, the moment was gone.

"Keep the prisoner in the dungeons tonight," he told a guard shortly. "He will be interrogated tomorrow." The guard was instantly gone. Thranduil turned back to Estel, and he could have sworn the King's eyes almost softened.

"Get some rest, young man. You are going to need it for tomorrow. I intend to fully expose the traitor responsible for this, I promise you. I will leave a watch by your door tonight, for your own protection." With a swish of green silk, the King was gone.

"Dan, what did he mean?" Estel wondered aloud as the majority of the elves in the room began filing out. "What prisoner? Ro?" He looked between his two brothers, searching their faces for an answer. "Where's Legolas?" he said suddenly.

"That answer I can provide," Elrohir said quietly, stepping to the side. The elven Prince was sat silently in a chair behind him, staring into space. Estel was at once worried – the usually fair skin was porcelain white and their was a haunted, saddened look in his dulled eyes.

"What's wrong?" he questioned, propping himself up. Neither of the twins would meet his eye. "What's happened?"

"Estel," Elrohir began awkwardly, "You must not be angry. The evidence against him was overwhelming… the King had no choice."

"What are you talking about?" Estel demanded with a growing sense of dread. He knew he wasn't going to like the answer.

"The prisoner, Estel… its –"

"Rómen," Legolas finished quietly. A knowing glance passed between the twins.

"What!" Estel cried in shock. "No! That's impossible!"

"As your brother's said, the evidence against him was overwhelming…" The Prince's voice was hollow and empty and Estel felt a rush of sympathy for his friend – but he also knew him enough to realise that was not all that rested on his mind.

"It was planted," Elladan said in disgust, turning away. "Everything was too perfectly laid out, Rómen is not foolish enough to make such a simple mistake."

"What was the evidence?"

"Legolas found both of the arrows in Romén's quarters – along with the lily," Elrohir replied. Estel glanced at Legolas in alarm, but his brother shook his head and Estel knew better than to pursue that line of enquiry any further.

He remained silent for a moment, studying the Prince until he was sure beyond a doubt. When he spoke, he chose his words very carefully.

"What else did you see, mellon nin?" Estel whispered softly. "What did you hear?"

Legolas raised his head with a great effort it seemed to meet Estel's deep grey eyes. "How did you know?" he rasped.

"I've seen her too." Estel suddenly felt the impulse to tell Legolas everything – the bathroom, the lullaby, the lily, his dreams, everything. Yet he knew that right now was not the right time.

"Its impossible…" The Prince looked like a lost child, floundering in waters way over his head. It provided a stark contrast to the Legolas Estel knew.

"Your father was right Legolas – Estel needs to rest, and so do you." Elrohir gently pushed Estel's shoulder's back down as Elladan disappeared for a minute.

"I cannot rest now! There is so much to do, to explain, to understand –"

"And you will, but in the morning," Elrohir instructed, using a tone that would have made his father proud. "And you will rest whether you want to or not, Estel."

The ranger was about to protest when Elladan reappeared at his side holding a small steaming cup. "I do not want to force you," he said solemnly, "But I will if I have to."

Looking helplessly between them, Estel realised he had little choice. Grudgingly, he took the cup from his brother and sipped at the broth. "No sugar?" he said. Elladan ignored him.

Meanwhile, Elrohir took Legolas by the arm and pulled him to his feet. "Let me take you back to your own rooms, Legolas," he offered. "You've had a very trying day, as have we all."

The Prince made no effort to protest, and with a heavy sigh left to ascend the palace. Elladan sat down on the side of the bed as Estel felt the potent sleeping drug take effect.

"Where do we go from here, Dan?" he whispered drowsily. His hold on the cup slackened and he felt his brother gently take it from his hands. As the warm darkness of dreamless sleep rushed to greet him, Elladan placed a hand over the man's eyes and closed them. For a few moments he was silent, listening to the slow rhythm of Estel's breathing. "I cannot say any more, Aragorn; I cannot say."

0-0-0-

Legolas was not surprised to find a certain maid at his door when he reached it – Lómë rushed forwards towards him, her glittering eyes brimming with angry tears.

"How could you, Legolas?" he whispered, her voice trembling. "How could you!"

The Prince felt Elrohir's hold on his elbow increase slightly as he looked between the betrayed and the lost. Legolas turned to his friend and forced a grim smile to his face.

"Go, Elrohir; I must see this through alone."

"Not alone," Elrohir protested quietly, eying the distraught elf woman.

"Elrohir – this is my Kingdom. Do not make me command you, my friend." Reluctantly, Elrohir relinquished his hold and bowed his head, before leaving them alone.

It was several moments before Legolas could meet Lómë's eyes again. The hurt and betrayal in them was blatantly evident. He sighed and shook his head, reaching for the door handle.

"He is your oldest friend, and you cannot even answer to me?" A different kind of fury to his father's was in the maid's voice – the kind brought on by helplessness and anguish.

Legolas closed his eyes, wishing it all away. _Why me?_ He thought despondently. _Why does it always happen to me? _

"I am not going anywhere without some answers Legolas, so don't you dare try and block me out!" Lómë warned, pointing a shaky accusatory finger at him.

Gently, Legolas took the slender hand in his own, lowering it from his face. Keeping a hold of it, he opened his door and led Lómë inside and over to a chair, closing the door behind him. Lómë declined the seat, but Legolas sank into his bed anyway.

Silence. Lómë put her hands on her hips defiantly. "I am _not_ leaving," she repeated.

Still Legolas could provide her with no answer. He was listening but found his throat suddenly tight. Finally, it became too much for her.

"Is this it? Is this all your oldest friend is worth?" she half shouted. "Muted hand gestures and silence? I am disgusted with you, Legolas Greenleaf; you who would place the fleeting life of some barely known human above that of your own household! They will not even let me see him! I have been banned from seeing my own brother! Do you have _any_ idea what that feels like, Legolas?" The floodgates opened and tears poured down her cheeks unchecked. "Of course you don't!" she sobbed, "Of course you don't, you have no brother! Well he is all I have Legolas, and I'll be damned to the abyss if you think you can take him from me!"

No response. Legolas watched her with quiet sadness.

"FOR ERU'S SAKE!" she screamed. "Will you not answer me! Answer, damn you!"

"They had no choice," Legolas said at last, his words grey and halting.

"I refuse to believe that! It's a lie and you know it! There is _always_ the choice," Lómë stamped her foot adamantly, "_Always_."

"Sometimes, the choice is not ours to make," Legolas breathed, closing his eyes. Tears had suddenly welled behind them but he did not wish for Lómë to see that - not now, this wasn't about him.

Lómë stopped, uneasy about how to proceed. She had not known what to expect only… only perhaps she had not expected this. Carefully, she paced over to stand in front of the Prince, not knowing what to do. She saw a single tear roll gravely down his milky cheek, having escaped from its boundaries. Gently, she reached out a shaking hand and wiped it away.

"Oh, Legolas," Lómë sighed, wiping her own tears away with her other hand, "What is going on?"

"I do not know," he whispered, "I could not stop them…" He opened his eyes to look at her, willing the answer to appear. The mattress tilted downwards on his left and Lómë sat down beside him, pulling the Prince's hand into her own.

"I could not stop them," he repeated, "I tried to tell my father but he… he needs someone to blame and the evidence… There was nothing I could do, Lómë. I am so sorry."

The maid pressed her own eyes shut, fighting to hold back her tears. Wisps of hair loosened from the hastily tied knot and fell across her face. "He is innocent Legolas. You must believe me. There is no way he could have done those horrible things."

"I know, Lómë. I know he's innocent, I believe it with every fibre in my body. But I have no proof." He raised his head up and looked at his friend; her face was drawn somehow, and dark shadows loomed under her bright eyes. Tears still trickled down her cheeks and he wiped them away softly.

"Let me see him," she begged, "Give me leave to see him, Legolas; I cannot bear the thought of him all alone tonight, not even knowing the extent of his crimes. It is wrong, and you know it."

"I know," the Prince nodded, "But I cannot help you. The power lies now with the King and the King alone. I may be his son but first and foremost I am a Prince – I cannot disregard the laws."

Lómë dropped her head down and her hair fell across her face, hiding her expression as she fiddled with her hands in her lap. "I know," she croaked, as the Prince pulled her into an embrace, her head resting in the hollow of his neck. Legolas' strong arms around her shoulders gave her a little strength but like him, she could not shake the sense of hopelessness about the situation. "And I did not mean to speak ill of Estel, I honestly did not," she confessed, "Forgive me."

"It is already forgotten," Legolas whispered.

For a few minutes the pair just sat in silence, taking comfort in one another's presence.

"There is great evil at work here, Lómë – something powerful," Legolas stated suddenly. There was a faint hint of purpose about his voice again.

"What do you mean?" she replied, not understanding.

Legolas spoke slowly, trying to make his words clear and unambiguous. "Something happened when I entered Romén's quarters – something remarkable, impossible, unexplainable."

"What one earth do you mean?" Lómë rose up now, facing the Prince. He measured her, weighing up in his mind whether he should share this information.

"What I'm going to tell you," he said secretively, "Cannot leave these walls."

"You have my word," she said immediately without thinking.

"I know." And he proceeded to tell her of the strange events of that evening…

0-0-0-

The Dark Watcher prowled uneasily. Things had not been going his way tonight. The damned human just had to walk in, didn't he! One more minute and he could have been gone. But no, he had to come waltzing in and now this! The whole of the castle was on its highest alert for centuries!

_Calm down,_ he told himself, _the plan still worked, and they are none the wiser. _The thought relaxed him a bit. It was true – they had arrested the Captain just as he suspected they would, even if the evidence was too obvious to count as solid. But he had relied on Thranduil to do that – the hot blooded, proud king was so _predictable_ at times…

0-0-0-

Dawn broke over the forest of Mirkwood. And this morning, like so many others before it across the millennia, a thick mist clung heavily to the tree tops, concealing the far away canopies of the very oldest sentinels. The steel grey sky had faded to a light ash, but the threat of more eruptions thundered in the distance. Wind toyed with what few leaves were left in the boughs but by now the branches had sacrificed all that they had to give. But the storm was not yet done and hovered, ever present and menacing, just out of range.

Inside the Palace, the inhabitants awoke to the thought of a dreary day before them. With Rómen held prisoner and therefore indisposed to fulfil his duties, his second in command now occupied his position – for what _he_ hoped would be a temporary measure.

Sighing, the new Captain of the Royal Guard descended the levels to the dungeons, pained at the thought that his superior officer had spent the night here. When they had taken him, Rómen had demanded to be told on what charges; but King Thranduil had denied him such a request and the interrogation would have been held that night if they had not received word that Estel had been attacked. Now in the dark half lit corridors, the Guard found he could not believe the Captain would in any way have broken the laws, _especially_ against those to whom he seemed well disposed – it was madness! All knew that he and the sons of Elrond had a common acquaintance in Prince Legolas yet they themselves had found friends on one another as well. And the fact that a considerable amount of the evidence came from the Prince himself was staggering – it was commonplace knowledge that the Captain and Prince were seldom seen apart. And yet the evidence…

The Guard shrugged the thought off. The quicker they got this over and done with, the quicker they could get on with finding the _real_ culprit, for he had no doubt that this was part of an elaborate plan to conceal from them the truth. He just hoped the King would see that.

Arriving at the cell door, he swung back the small latch that revealed a opening, a window into the room.

"Sir?" he called apprehensively. He did not know in what state of mind he would find his Captain.

"I'm here, Kemen," came the reply. The tone of the voice was not harsh or cold noble, a strange sound within those dark walls.

Kemen slid the key into the lock and opened the door to find Rómen already on his feet and prepared to leave.

"They have called for you, Captain."

"I am not your Captain at the moment, Kemen; you are mine," Rómen reminded him.

"Aye sir; but this position does not belong to me. I pray to Eru that it will soon be returned to its rightful owner," the Guard countered earnestly, and Romén's heart was touched. He made to leave, but the Guard stopped him uneasily.

"Sir – you must understand, this is not how I would have the situation, but…" he paused, somewhat embarrassed; "I must bind your hands."

Rómen took a deep breath. He knew he shouldn't be surprised – after all, he was their prisoner – but still… it just hurt. It hurt that at this time yesterday he had nothing more to worry about that an incoming wine load from Laketown, and now he was not even trusted to walk with a Guard up a mere two floors.

Resigned, he held his arms out without complaint. He could sense Kemen felt uncomfortable and avoided his eye, but he expected nothing less from his second in command as his hands were bound together. He had after all, practically trained him himself.

When the ropes were tied (somewhat looser than Rómen would ordinarily have liked, but he knew that act was done with a good heart) Kemen allowed him to walk ahead, following him back up to the Oval Chamber, where awaited his King and his fate.

0-0-0-

Not for the first time in his long life, Legolas wished and hoped beyond all reason that the ground would suddenly open up and swallow him whole. Alas it was not to be, and the rounded room that formed the Pinnacle of the Guard filled with the murmur of low voices remained firmly where it was, the ground just as solid as ever it had been.

He had not spoken to his father since last night and carefully avoided his gaze now. The Kin g sat in the regal chair, back straight and shoulders squared, his hands linked very precisely on the table in front of him. His eyes were narrowed as he stared at the door through which Rómen would soon be stepping, and Legolas felt a pain in his heart. This was all wrong and whilst they wasted time confirming Romén's innocence, a fact which he was sure must be evident to everyone in the room, the real attacker was still at large within the Kingdom – perhaps even within the Palace.

He caught the eye of Estel, sat four seats to his father's left, Elladan and Elrohir flanking him on either side. Estel sent him a brief encouraging smile before turning his head to listen to Elladan. Lómë was seated next to Tirmor further down the table, her golden hair tied in an intricate knot on her head to reveal a high collared deep blue dress. She too was watching the door with anticipation.

Legolas noted the sense of formality about the room with extreme distaste. The eighteen Royal Guards present were either sat at denoted seats around the great table or flanking the room's many doors, depending on their rank. All wore the usually reserved formal attire of the Guard; a scarlet cloak clipped with a single silver star, their boiled leathers a rich reddish brown and the material of their clothes the colour of autumn leaves. Belt buckles gleamed in the torch light as the guards stood rigidly to attention.

He and his father of course wore such garment as the occasion required; the King, his heavy and richly embroidered forest green robes, the folds of soft velvet falling majestically to the floor. The crown of leaves was replaced with a simple golden band studded with emeralds. Legolas on the other hand wore a long silver grey shirt with a silver gilded belt, and a plainly adorned silver circlet rested on his brow. He did not revel in appearing like this at any particular moment in time, but to do so before his oldest friend left him with a faintly sour taste in his mouth.

Suddenly the door at which his father had been starting so intently opened, and an immediate hush fell upon all the room as the prisoner was brought forth. As the King rose on his left, so did the Prince, the taste in his mouth growing more bitter with every passing moment.

Rómen strode with purposeful steps to his seat at the opposite end of the table to the King, his head held high. Here Kemen left him and took the appropriate seat by the King's left side. With a sullen awareness Rómen realised that it was _his_ seat.

Two guards moved from their places by the wall to stand behind him, their faces solemn statues. Rómen flickered his eyes over them but knew they were another formality only.

For a moment, their was complete silence. The twenty six of the twenty seven people present seemed to be holding their breaths.

"I hereby commence the Council of the Royal Guard," began Thranduil, his voice ringing clearly in the silence, "and the interrogation of the suspended Captain thereof, Rómen, son of Rómsul. All those within this Chamber, the Pinnacle of the Guard, does hereby solemnly swear by his presence alone to uphold the law of the land and to strictly abide the proceedings therein. If any amongst our number holds within his heart objections to this, let him now speak."

A pause. Everyone seemed to be waiting for someone to speak, but no one did. Satisfied, Thranduil continued. "We are gathered here to determine the innocence or guilt of the afore mentioned defendant, by means of evaluating such evidence presented here today as gives legal reason for his arrest. To the defendant, I say this; this is not a trial but an interrogation and only you therefore may represent yourself. Answer all questions with only the truth in your heart and know that you will be judged justly. However, lie to the Council and you bring upon yourself its full wrath and subject yourself to the punishment there following. Have you any objection to these terms?"

"No, your Majesty," Rómen duly replied.

"Good – then let the proceedings begin."

**Blimey. Sort of a little cliffie really isn't it? Not a proper one, bit of a wanna-be really…**

**Anyways! If you've made it this far (and honestly, I'm all congratulations if you have!) then please be so kind as to leave a review and tell me what you think!**

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**Reviewer Replies**

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**_Mellaithwen_**** – Blimey, it feels like I haven't spoken to you in ages… Even though its probably only a few days, but hey, lol in my world that's a long time! Lol sooo…. Where have all the crazy lilies gone, we wonder?**

**_Encaitarince_**** – (Hides) Oh my God… Second Star… Do you realise, it actually hasn't occurred to me to even look at the thing for months! This probably isn't a good thing… Never mind… The Earth will soon be destroyed to make way for a new Galatic By-pass anyway… Lol hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**_Coolio02_**** – Who can they trust indeed? We'll just have to wait and see!**

**_Star-Stallion_**** – I know what you mean! I hadn't done any writing for so long; and it reflected in my January exam actually, I was completely out of touch in the descriptive task. I'm hoping writing more in the lead up to the exams will mean a sort of twisted revision, as well as updates! Ah more clues? Someone HAS already guessed actually, but I'm keeping hush hush I'm afraid! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**_HarryEstel_**** – Eeek! Sorry it took so long for me to post the second half of that chapter… But look on the bright side, another update! Hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

**_sielge_**** – You have such a funky name, you know. Anyways… wow, thanks, such compliments! Sorry this took so long, but at least its here now.**

**_kukumalu_**** – Heya there first time reader! Sorry I've made you wait so long for an update, but well, that's life, the universe and everything for you… Omg I know, A-Levels! But at least I'll be doing subjects I've chosen, rather than a load of meaningless ones. And then pure English and Uni! I can't wait! Oooh dear… just re-read the end of your review… I'm hoping your life didn't depend on a quick update, for I may otherwise be talking to no one… Ooops. Lol hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**_grumpy_**** – Lost a flower and gained an arrow. Not a bad swap actually – nice way of putting it! Sorry for the long wait!**

**_Joshua Nenya_**** – Ahh! My loyal German fan! Guess what? I've got my FINAL German speaking exam soon. I know how to have fun lol. Sorry you had to wait so long for this, but two fairly quick updates isn't bad, is it?**

**_katquest2000_**** – Eeek sorry for the wait; life, the universe and everything have a tendency to get in the way, but two in a weeks not bad, me thinks.**

**_arqueni-telrunya_**** – Hey there! I'm thrilled you like the plot – must admit, that's one aspect of this fic that's been quite over-riding. Its nice to have something fit into the genre people love and yet have it still really original; perfect market niche! Lol I know what you mean about the horses names – especially Flame, I can't stand it – but I quite like Pilgrim for Aragorn's horse. Plus I'd recently watched the Horse Whisperer again when I wrote that so it was a bit of an influence lol. Hope you liked the chapter!**

**_Angel_**** – Wow! What a compliment, thank you! Ooh its lucky you can't see me, I think I'm blushing lol. Argh, I know, my typos are horrendous, they make me cringe when I read it back. So you don't like Tirmor? Lol fair enough! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**_Elowen_****_ Elrondion_**** – Spell-binding? Ok, you can DEFINITELY come again lol! Thank you very much indeed! LOl blimey yes, watch out for the falling-into-the-computer business, can get rather messy. Ahh… the mysterious elf of doom! Who could he be? Lol hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**_tracey_**** – And here is a continuation for you. Enjoy!**

**Loadsa love, Estel xxx**


	8. The Game is Set

**Disclaimer: If you've got this far, then its pretty self explanatory but for the record, no money, no fame, no Tolkien!**

**A/N: I think it actually been about a year since I last posted any of this so if I get absolutely no replies then I've only got myself to blame! Lol no excuses just completely forgot for a while then utterly lost interest and now I've suddenly found it again! Funny old world… Anyway, enjoy!**

**Chapter Eight – The Game is Set**

"Rómen," the King began, "I myself will put the first question to you. Speak when told to answer only, and remember to _tell the truth_."

Rómen dipped his head respectfully to his King, glancing sidelong at Legolas, who he noted held his fleeting gaze with determination. The suspended Captain was torn as to whether such a gesture boded well or ill, so ignored it.

"Can you give full details to the Council, and its guest members, as to where you were between early evening and the time of your arrest last night?"

"I was around the Palace, your Majesty, fulfilling my usual evening duties," Rómen replied with a steady voice. "I had dined with the Prince and now descended the Palace to check in with the scouts that had been sent out earlier that afternoon to discuss anything they had found." Rómen paused, staring at the table before continuing. "After this, I ascended the Palace levels to find my sister" – he nodded to Lómë, who smiled weakly –"but before I could find her, Tirmor met me and said that the Prince required my presence in his chambers."

Legolas did not flinch, but neither did he fail to notice the slightly bitter tone in his friend's voice.

"When I got there, I found half the members of my own Guard, who swiftly placed me under arrest and marched me down to the dungeons, without so much as a whisper as to my crime. Which," Rómen added slightly recklessly, "I hardly need to point out, is in fact against one of our oldest laws."

"Hold your tongue!" Thranduil's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I do not need to be informed of the laws of my own Kingdom. Insolence will not be tolerated, Rómen."

Rómen stared hard at the table again before nodding sharply and murmuring an apology.

"So you deny then, being anywhere near Estel's chambers?" Tirmor inquired.

"I – well, no," Rómen said, puzzled. "It was in the same corridor that I met you, Tirmor. You know that."

The dark haired elf acknowledged this with a slight nod. A scant whisper flitted around the room, silenced by a deadly glare from the King.

"You admit to being in Estel's chambers then? To attacking him?" Legolas tensed visibly when his father said this.

"No, your Majesty! Of course not! I would never do such a thing! I bear no grudge against Estel, and never have done. I have no cause to." Rómen stared openly at Legolas. "Surely you must agree, _your Majesty_?"

"This is not the time for you to be asking questions, but to answer them!"

"He has a fair point father," Legolas said, maintaining Romén's gaze. "And you are right, I must agree. From what I have seen the two of you get on well enough, and I know of no reason why you would wish Estel ill. In fact, I do not believe you attacked Estel at all," he added quietly.

Thranduil turned to his son with a thunderous look, but Legolas thought it worth it, for he saw in Romén's eyes the look of gratitude and it was enough.

"That is not your decision to make, Legolas," the King reminded him sternly. "Need I remind you that it was you yourself that presented the strongest of the evidence that we have?"

"And yet father, it was you that made the decision," Legolas said carefully. "I am sure I need not remind you of that."

A taut silence fell. Rómen glanced between his friend and his King, wondering who would look again first; and yet predictably, Legolas dropped his gaze and dipped his head respectfully. Rómen understood though; Legolas wanted him to know that he at least believed him, even if his father did not. For now, that was enough, and the Captain felt a new surge of hope.

"Tirmor," Legolas said suddenly, breaking the silence, "How did you know that I wanted to see Rómen? I had not informed you of much a request."

"That's right, my lord; but I had seen young Culfin earlier, who told me that you were searching for the Captain, and that if I were to see him I should send him to you," Tirmor replied smoothly. Legolas nodded in understanding. Thranduil however, continued to frown.

"There is an distinct flaw in your tale of events, Rómen," the King said firmly, "Because not one of the scouts sent out yesterday afternoon ever was met by you upon there return. In fact, no one took their reports at all."

Rómen started. "My lord, you must be mistaken –"

"Must I?" mused Thranduil. He motioned to a collection of elves, some standing and some sitting, near Lómë and Tirmor. "Do any of you have any memory of being met by the Captain when you returned last night?"

One elf with flecked gold eyes stood up, evidently a spokes person. "My lord, when we returned from the forest, we came down to the Oval Chamber in search of the Captain as he had requested. Upon arrival however, we found this and his own office empty. With no one else to report to we went in search of yourself, your Majesty, but you were busy with the attack on the Ranger."

"Thank you – you may be seated," Thranduil nodded. The scout bowed and resumed his seat. "As it was, the scouts had found nothing to report in the forest at all. But do you still maintain that you met them, Rómen, even after hearing their account? Again, I must insist that you tell the truth."

But Rómen was gaping at the scouts with an incredulous look on his face. "But I met you, I did, I remember…" He trailed off hopelessly.

"What exactly do you remember, Rómen?" Legolas questioned, suspicions on high alert. "Can you give us an example of conversation held?"

"I – I… I don't know," the Captain replied dumbfounded. "I cannot, your Majesty. Its just… blank."

"Blank? What do you mean?"

"Just that," Rómen frowned. "I have memory of intent to meet the scouts but… I can recollect nothing…" He began staring at the table again, biting his lower lip.

Legolas glanced at his father, sure they were thinking the same thing. _His memory has been tampered with, _he thought to his father. Thranduil raised an eyebrow_. There are none within the Palace with such powers. -- Not that we _know _of_, Legolas replied pointedly.

"Estel," Thranduil said, "We have heard you evidence already; do you have nothing more to add?"

"No, your Majesty," the young Ranger replied. "Except that…"

He paused, uncertain how to go on. He could feel his brothers watching him.

"Except what?" Thranduil prompted.

"Except – I do not _feel_ it was Rómen. I know it makes no sense, your Majesty," he added hastily, as several people around the room scoffed. "But it was – it was too dark to have been Rómen."

"Too dark." Thranduil repeated. "Very well."

Legolas sighed. He had been so sure that Rómen was innocent, and that proving thus would be easy, but his defence was so sketchy that it was hard to separate the truth from the lies. _Probably, _he thought_, because no lies had yet been told. These people are all telling their versions of the truth. _He could tell it was going to be a long day…

"Can you then, Rómen, give us details of your whereabouts during the day yesterday?" Thranduil continued.

"During the day? I was on the southern boarder, your Majesty – and that I do remember," he added.

"Are there any that can provide themselves witnesses to this testament? Come forward now."

As one, seven other elves adorned in the attire of the Guard stepped forward. Thranduil nodded, satisfied. "Thank you."

The questioning continued for about another hour, though Estel himself saw no point to it; people were merely asking the same questions in a different manner, and receiving always the same answers from Rómen; he did not attack Estel, but he could not remember what had caused him not to meet the scouts. Finally, Thranduil called the proceedings to a halt.

"This Council is adjourned pending further notice," he said, rising to his feet. Legolas rose beside him. "Having given all the evidence there is to give, the prisoner will be returned to his confines until the Council has reached its conclusion. The rest of you will all be called," told everyone else, and made to exit the room, Legolas just behind. As he came alongside Rómen however he paused. "I am sorry it must be this way, Captain," the King said with mild bitterness. "I pray that one way or another, it will soon be over." With a furtive look at Estel, he swept from the room, Legolas following with a silent frown.

At once, the room seemed to stir into motion. Kemen stepped forward and glanced at Rómen apologetically, who got to his feet and sighed.

"The King is right sir; it will be over soon," he encouraged. Rómen managed a weak smile. Immediately, he was surrounded by several people, the foremost being Lómë, his sister. The tears had dried from her sparkling eyes, and she put on a brave face.

"This will all be over soon," she promised him, kissing his hand. "The King knows you, brother; you will see."

"She is right, Rómen," added Estel, standing at Lómë's side. "Justice will be served. You will see."

Rómen looked at them all, his sister and the Ranger he barely knew, his twin brothers just behind him, and Kemen and the rest of the Guard, and felt a warm surge that all these people should have such trust and faith in him.

"Thank you – all of you," he replied, smiling his first true smile in hours. Yet as Kemen led him away, he could not help but to think on the apparently memory loss he was suffering, and wondered what it was that someone had wanted him to forget so much.

-0-0-0-0-0-

It was early evening. Estel was sat on his bed, flipping a single silver coin between his fingers. He was deep in thought over the events of the day – the Council had recalled after lunch, this time with Rómen absent, but Estel could not see that anything much had been decided. It seemed to be the general opinion of all that Rómen was not responsible for the attack – however, there was great unrest at the fact that his memory had obviously been tampered with. The King was loath to keep such a trusted subject in the dungeons, but knew that he could not allow him to walk free yet, as much for his own safety as for anyone else's. The matter had been debated for a long while, until Tirmor suggested that he was instead kept within guest chambers, that he might at least be more at comfort. This idea was greatly welcomed and Rómen had consequently been moved up there in late afternoon. He was still not allowed to speak with anyone though, and was forced to eat his meals alone with two sentinels standing guard at his door.

But as to where who the real culprit was, and where he was hiding, no one had the faintest idea. And as far as clues went, there were none, save for the two arrows recovered from Romén's chambers – even they had been checked and double and triple checked, but there were no other darts like them in any of the armouries supplies. They were short and stumpy, with a black and white magpie feather fletching that could not be identified. Tirmor, who knew the passages and secret tunnels of the castle better than any one was commissioned with keeping a close eye on all of the entrances and exits, and with closing up those along the corridor where Estel and his brothers were staying.

A soft knock at his door made the man jump. "Come in," he called, sitting up on the bed. Legolas entered quietly, carrying in his hands a small wooden box that was plain and unadorned.

"My friend," Estel greeted, rising to his feet. "How are you?"

The question may have seemed strange, but Estel genuinely meant it; something in the way that the Prince moved was more muted than usual, and he had not yet met the Ranger's eye.

"Legolas – what is it?" Estel asked worried. "Come, sit."

Silently, Legolas accepted the invitation, placing the wooden box careful on his knees. Estel did not speak, waiting for the elf to make the first move. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.

"It is time we stopped evading this subject, Estel – we both know that it must be spoken of." The Prince raised his head to bore his bright blue eyes into the steely grey of his friend's. Estel nodded, not having the faintest idea what Legolas meant.

"It may be that what we can reveal to each other will reveal the truth behind this web of lies," he continued. "You know of what I speak, of course?"

Again, Estel nodded. Legolas raised an eyebrow. Estel changed the motion to a shaking.

Legolas sighed. "Perhaps this will make it clearer," he said, and opened the box. A soft silvery light flooded outwards and Estel gasped as he recognised the lily flower sitting on a bed of black velvet. "You see, it was only a matter of time," Legolas sighed again. "I knew something was not right when I heard you humming that tune, Estel – do you remember?" Estel nodded for the third time, actually meaning it. "I had hoped that it was nothing, that we might forget it and move on. But it seems Eru has different plans for us, my friend," he smiled dryly, setting the box down on the bed. "We need to share all we know if we are to defeat this, Estel, for it is older than either of us."

Estel stared between the lily and his friend. Legolas seemed older somehow, his skin a pale grey in the lily's light. He knew he was right. And so, he proceeded to tell him all he knew and had seen and dreamt – and what his suspicions were. When he finished, silence once again descended upon the room, a moody, brooding silence. Legolas was leaning on his knees, glaring at the floor.

"Rómen is just a pawn in all of this," he spat out suddenly. "Someone is using him. _Divide and conquer_."

"I know," Estel answered solemnly. He had felt awkward speaking to the Prince about his mother – he felt he should not have been privy to the murder scene in his dreams, as though he had no right to interfere with this personal and private matter. Almost timidly, he asked, "How did you find this lily, Legolas?"

In a dull, deflated voice, Legolas informed him of the trip down to Romén's quarters and what he had found.

"So now what?" Legolas finished with a question. "What do we do now?"

"The Dark Watcher… we find the Dark Watcher," Estel replied, frowning and fiddling with the silver coin in his hands again.

"But how?" Legolas said, and Estel could not help to notice the trace of hopelessness in his voice.

"We will find a way, mellon nin; we will find a way."

-0-0-0-0-0-

In a dark and secret space, a shadow enshrouded figure listened to the secret conversation intensely. Damn it! He had hoped to keep it to the mortal, but if the Prince knew too… Well, that was just too bad. He would have to kill them both now. He had no choice. As for the twins? If he could just get them all together, one fell swoop would deal with them all for good. A hunting trip perhaps? No… they were unlikely to venture outside in this weather… It would have to be in the Tower then. It was the only answer. No one would look for them there. No one would predict. Smirking, he turned and with a barely breathed word, conjured a pale blue flame in his hands, leading the way back down the dark and dismal corridor.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Pre-dawn. Gloomy grey light filtered through the high window of Romén's new cell – it may not have had bars at the windows, but there was no denying its purpose; keeping him in, and keeping others out. The fire had burned out some time during the long night but had not bothered to re-kindle it, being affected neither by the cold nor the dark. The soft furnishings of the guest quarters were shrouded in shadow, their edges blurring into one another and losing definition. It was about the only thing in the Palace that Rómen felt he could relate to right now. He had spent all night pressing his memory, trying to force it to reveal its hidden secrets – but the harder he tried, the further away it all seemed. Just a big, blurry mess.

A lone bird call outside shook him from his hours-long reverie. Rising on stiff legs, he crossed to the window, peering out across the forest. _His_ forest. His _home_. But never before in his own home had he been imprisoned – never before had whispers of treason flitted like ghostly birds about the kingdom bearing his name. It made him sick to his stomach, leaving a faint distaste in his mouth. He knew that the royal family had faith in him though – his removal to this room was proof enough of that – which eased his mind a little. But what enraged him more was that the true culprit was still at large, and he could be of no use to his King or his Prince behind barred doors. He had implicit faith in his Guard, but he knew he could never forgive himself if something happened to either of them and he wasn't there to prevent it… He shuddered. It didn't bear thinking about.

_There must be a logical explanation_, he reasoned with himself. _There always is. It's always there; you just need to find it. _

For what seemed like the millionth time, he went over the chain of events in his mind; and for the millionth time, the one thing that stood out was _himself_. He was the illogical link in the chain. If only he could remember… He shook the thoughts from his head – "if only" was not going to help the situation in any way.

A knock at the door demanded his attention.

"Captain Rómen?" A familiar voice called. "Are you awake?"

Recognising the voice as Culfin's, Rómen turned to the closed door with a frown on his face. "Yes, I am awake," he answered uncertainly, followed by the sounds of the lock being undone and the door swinging in over the thick carpet with a soft hush. Culfin stood in the door way, speaking softly with the guard who looked distinctly worried about admitting the higher ranking soldier, but did not want to disobey an order.

"Peace; it is well, I will take the blame if the King should hear and disagree," Culfin assured him, before stepping into the chamber and closing the door silently on the sentinels.

There were several moments when neither of them spoke. Rómen knew Culfin well as one of his commanding officers, but there had never been an entirely wholesome air between them. Others said it was because Rómen had got the top job as Captain whilst Culfin was sidelined, but truth be told the pair had never seen eye to eye even before Romén's promotion.

"Captain," Culfin said finally, dipping his head, "I hope I find you well?"

Rómen quirked an eyebrow. "As well as most at this hour of the morn." Something felt strange about this visit… Culfin spoke stiffly and awkwardly, his back unusually straight.

"Ah – yes, you are probably wondering why I should come at this hour? I have just finished my night shift, and wished to speak to you at a time that would not be so…noticed." The tone he finished on was so ambiguous that Rómen could not help but to feel his curiosity awaken alongside suspicion.

"And what could you possibly wish to speak to me about that requires your visit to go unnoticed?" Rómen questioned, circling round to a desk and leaning against it.

Culfin studied his Captain for a full and soundless minute. In all, Culfin was not a bad person, not of any description – but sometimes his narrow-mindedness did not allow room for him to understand decisions made by others; others mostly being Rómen. He had often disagreed with his Captain on many occasions in the past, even when they had been ranking equals, making discourse between them sometimes taut and forced. Yet he was fundamentally a good person – and it was because of that he was stood here now; for what he had heard in the Oval Chamber at the trial yesterday simply didn't add up because it wasn't true.

Dropping his gaze, he sighed and crossed his arms across his chest. "The trial yesterday, Captain – there was something I should have said and did not. I fear what my delay may have done, and I am sorry for any ill I may have caused but I did not know what to do."

Rómen narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, Culfin? What do you know?" he pressed. When a reply seemed difficult, he added, "You will not be punished for this, I will see to that, you have my word."

Culfin stepped close to Rómen and casting a furtive glance at the door, whispered in his ear; "It was something that Tirmor said, Captain; he said that he knew to fetch you because I had told him so from the Prince. Except… except that I never _saw_ Tirmor. In fact I didn't speak to him that day at all."

Rómen felt as though a tonne of bricks had just been thrust into his stomach. The breath was squeezed from his lungs as he tried to grasp the gravity of what this meant. He barely even recalled Tirmor saying it, it had been so small and slight… so self-assured that no one could have questioned it.

"You mean the King's oldest and most trusted servant _lied_ to the full Council?" he gasped. "Think this through very carefully, Culfin, what you say could land you in serious trouble if it is not the truth."

"It _is_ the truth, I swear it; I _did_ see Prince Legolas, and he _did_ ask me to pass the message to you via any channels, but I never saw Tirmor, I swear it. For whatever reason, he is lying."

Rómen let the information reel around his head. _The logical explanation… the faulty link in the chain._ _Tirmor!_

"We have to tell the King immediately!" Rómen sprang to the door, pounding on it with his fists.

"What do you think it means?" Culfin asked fearfully.

Rómen turned to him, a new blazing fire in his emerald eyes. "I do not know, Culfin – but whatever it is, it is not good. Someone in this Palace knows more than they are letting on."

As the door was pulled open by the shocked guards, Rómen did not voice his foreboding thoughts but somehow he knew something deeper and darker was going on – and something terrible was about to happen.

**And it really is – I've actually started Chapter Nine! Thats right! A regular update may even be on the cards – anyway, stay tuned and if you want to comment then go right ahead. But for the record, this was started one and a half years ago and I know from reading it myself that the writing is a little immature and reflects that, but hey, its interesting for me to watch my progression!**

**Loadsa love, Estel xxxxxxx**


	9. CheckMate

**Disclaimer: Woo! I am Tolkien reincarnated! Give me lots of money! – yeh, it doesn't really work does it? Ah well, maybe next time!**

**A/N: OH – MY – SPACE. I have no idea what came over me in this chapter, but once I started I just couldn't stop writing it! Its BARE exciting! And its really long! And I'm afraid it's a right bleep of a cliff hanger, mwahahaa. Well, that's enough of me – enjoy! Reviewer replies at the bottom!**

**Chapter Nine – Check-Mate**

At that very moment across the Palace, Prince Legolas blinked the blurry half-dreams from his bright eyes to reveal Estel's bed chamber in the growing light of dawn. Slightly confused, it took him a moment to recall why he had not woken in his own bed – he realised that he must have fallen asleep in the comfortable but thoughtful silence that had descended between the two friends when they finished speaking. Sure enough, there was Estel spread-eagled on his stomach with his left leg dangling in the air, the dark wayward locks about his face ruffling occasionally as his snored softly. He looked so peaceful – in a distinctly mortal, dishevelled sort of way, Legolas decided, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He wanted to let Estel continue sleeping, but there was something more pressing on his mind; a possible solution to the current mystery. Well, at any rate, something that might set them on the right track.

Gently shaking the young ranger's shoulder, he pulled him from the realm of sleep – to which Estel replied with a muffled grunt. Legolas rolled his eyes, and lightly smacked the man's head.

"Wake up Estel, the day is passing," he said, rising to his feet and un-plaiting the messy braids in his hair in front of the mirror.

"Passing? It's barely started…" Estel complained with a yawn, using the bed covers to drag himself upright. "Legolas, why is it that you seem to spend half of your life in front of a mirror?" he asked mischievously.

Legolas rolled his eyes again, re-braiding the final strand of his hair.

"Because you, mangy human, never look in one – so one of us must make up for that deficit," he replied candidly. Estel stopped attempting to fasten his boot to glance up at his friend, and finding a wry smile grinned broadly back.

"You know, most friends find that a simple good morning is sufficient," he joked, re-focusing his attention on his boots.

"Well, mellon-nin, I think it would be a little bit of an understatement to classify us as 'most friends'".

"Point taken," Estel laughed, bounding to his feet. "But for the record? – Good morning!"

"I thought you were tired?" Legolas queried, quirking an eyebrow.

Estel shrugged. Legolas decided it was _definitely_ a human thing. Shaking it off, he turned to face the ranger with a more sombre expression and Estel felt the air between them intensify at once. "Estel, I have been thinking about – the situation," he started; "I believe I may have an idea that could help us understand it a little more. It is the nature of this idea that means we need to be up and about before the Palace is." Estel nodded. It wouldn't be the first time they would need to sneak around somewhere familiar at the crack of dawn.

"Where are we going? What is your idea?" Estel questioned quietly.

"It is obvious really," he sighed heavily again. "My mother's private rooms have remained largely untouched since…she was lost," he ground through a clenched jaw. "My father could not bear to change a single thing, so he had the room locked and since then… I think most people have forgotten about it." He smiled thinly. "But I know she kept a diary because she used to read it to me sometimes, and I know that she kept it in her private chambers. If we can get in there unseen and find it, it could reveal something to us – anything – that might explain what's going on. I know it's a bit of a long shot, but it's the best we have… and I cannot go to my father about this. Not yet," he added grimly.

Estel understood; King Thranduil was not the most forgiving of characters, he had learnt that first hand.

"If we have a lead, I think we should follow it," he agreed, clasping the Prince's shoulder. "We can do this, Legolas, I know we can; we've come through worse."

The Prince nodded his silent thanks, then began leading the way through the still sleeping Palace to the upper levels of the Royal Quarter.

They reached Legolas' room without being seen, and were about to continue past when a commotion in the corridor to their right caused them to dive out of sight as the King went by in a dark flurry. Having slid themselves swiftly and silently into Legolas' rooms, the Prince pressed his sharp ears up against the door, listening on in whatever it was that had stirred the Elven King at this unusual hour. To his surprise, he heard the voice of Kemen speedily relaying a developing situation involving Rómen. At the sound of the Captain's name, Estel tapped his friend on the shoulder but Legolas merely held his hand up for silence, straining to listen to the muted conversation that fled past outside.

"What is the meaning of this demand?" the King commanded quietly, unwilling to wake his son.

"Your majesty, I know not; one of the sentinels on watch outside his room came to me only moments ago saying that the Captain had an urgent need to speak to you," the acting commander replied succinctly.

"At this hour of the morning? Could it not have waited?"

"Your majesty, as I understand it he had just been admitted a guest – Culfin, a lower commander of the Royal guard –"

"I thought I explicitly said that none were to see him without my consent?" The King interrupted. Legolas could perfectly see the glare in his father's eyes at being disobeyed in his own mind; he's been on the receiving end of it more times than he could count.

"I do not know, your majesty; but during their short conversation, something was revealed that has given the Captain great reason to fear for your life…"

Legolas wished he could have listened longer, but the pair were even now passing out of the range of even elven hearing. Sighing, he pulled away for the door and inched it open to check the corridor, gazing after the path his father had taken. He wished desperately that he could find out what was going on and help his loyal friend, but he knew that the only way to truly free him was to find the real culprit. Whatever was happening on the lower levels of the Palace would have to stay there for now.

Another tap to his shoulder distracted him. Turning, his found Estel's silver eyes narrowed, his young brow furrowed.

"What was that all about?" he whispered. "Why were they talking about Rómen?"

Legolas frowned and shook his head. "Culfin came to see him and between them, they have discovered something that may mean my father's life is at risk… Beyond that, I do not know," he answered, "but we have to keep going, we're almost there." His did not voice the concerns in his mind at this new turn of events, and a shadow flickered across his heart.

As they stepped cautiously back out into the main corridor, a thought entered Estel's head.

"Legolas, if the doors are locked, how will we get in without making too much noise?"

"It won't matter," Legolas assured him, motioning for the man to follow as he started off again. "My mother had maids when she was here, but they were the only rooms on the upper levels with hers and they have all long since gone. No one will here us breaking in." That did not change the fact that he would still be entering the Queen's rooms illegally, but he hoped that if what they found was the answer, then that technicality would be overlooked.

As they passed the bathroom where Estel has first seen the apparition, he could not help but to try and suppress the shudder than ran up his spine. Somehow it was even worse being here now, knowing that what he had seen was more than just the work of his imagination, and could be a deadly history. They began climbing a stairwell that Estel recognised as the one from which the lullaby he'd heard had first descended, and again, everything felt like it was clicking into place. The young ranger also began to get the distinct feeling he was in way over his head, and entering into things much bigger and more personal that he could ever have imagined.

At the top of the stairwell, Estel was surprised to find a landing where doors only led off on one side – the right – lined all the way down a hall of about thirty feet. On the left side were what appeared to be large airy windows but all of them had been boarded up, plunging the once sunlit hallway into gloomy darkness, lit only by the light flitting up the stairs. Estel thought he could feel the remnant of beauty and song this place must once have been filled with, but now the overriding feeling was one of sorrow and loss, and to a lesser extent… foreboding. Something was definitely amiss in this corridor, Estel just knew it. Legolas it seemed did not feel it though, and moved stiffly down the hall to the fifth door, the most ornate, that lay at the exact middle. It was carved of a dark wood, possibly mahogany, and about the frame was twined a silver birch pattern of white flowers – lilies. Estel was beginning to think he would be quiet happy never to see a lily flower ever again in his life.

Legolas paused a moment, running his hands over the delicate carpentry, his eyes glazing as his mind took him elsewhere to a place far away from this dark and haunted corridor. In his mind's eye he could see the windows lining the hall all streaming through a brilliant golden light, the stain glass patterns located alternately along them depicting woodland scenes from his mother's native Lothlorien. There was his favourite – the spring named after the legendary maiden Nimrodel; a soft silver pool beneath a tiny tinkling waterfall, where a beautiful elf-woman with snowy skin and dark, enchanting eyes sang a melody of the golden leaves above her head. He had always liked it because it had been his mother's favourite too; repeatedly he would ask her to tell him that sorry tale and she would gladly do so, but with Nimlothnen's voice it never sounded too sorrowful…

Heaving a great sigh, Legolas reluctantly pulled himself from the blissful memories. He had accepted long ago that that was all she could ever be now. Blinking, he noticed the young ranger at his side, his face full of unspoken questions.

"A memory – nothing more," Legolas whispered. Drawing back from the door, he eyed it carefully, seeking any weak points.

Estel breathed a sigh of relief to see his friend back with him; he had seen the Prince sink into a deep reverie and had been loath to break it, though he knew time was precious, especially after what they had just heard downstairs.

"This is a very strong door," Legolas commented after a few seconds; "But the lock has not been used in centuries – it may be that with enough strength, it will snap open."

Lightly pushing the young man aside, he took another step back before bracing his right shoulder, and pummelled at the door. It did not open, but the lock gave a distinct moan of protest. Rubbing his shoulder briefly, the Elf Prince drew back and threw his weight against it again. The wood groaned at him this time too. As he stood back for the third time, Estel came by his side and mimicked his position.

"Third time lucky?" he said dryly. Nodding, Legolas counted him in.

"One – two – three!" On the final count pair of them slammed into the door; and finally, after hundreds of years of decay and disuse, the rusting lock snapped and the heavy dark door swung sharply inwards, throwing the two invaders off balance and sending them into a heap on the floor.

Back on his feet almost at once, Legolas eyed the chamber suspiciously, suddenly very conscious that he had left his knives behind.

Estel drew himself up slowly, squinting into the shadow. "Legolas, I cannot see anything!" he grumbled.

"Wait a moment," the golden-haired Prince muttered, stepping towards the far edge of the room where a heavy velvet curtain hung from the ceiling to the floor. He knew these rooms as well as if he had been in their only yesterday, he did not need to flood them with light, but Estel's eyes were not elven. He fingered the heavy, dusty fabric for the merest of moments, the past laced in everything he saw, before throwing them apart. At once the room came alive and Estel had to cover his eyes as the full dawn swept across carpet and chairs and tapestries that had not seen the light of day for centuries. It was as though the very room itself took a great, gasping breath, breathing for the first time in hundreds of years. As his eyes adjusted to the sudden switch, Estel allowed them to swivel around the magnificent chamber, drinking it all in as Legolas stood perfectly still and silhouetted by the huge bay windows.

Huge tapestries lined the stone walls, covering almost every inch of them that he could see, each depicting stories from Lothlorien and from the First Age of the Sun, as well as hunting parties and festivities in the forests of Greenwood when she had still been great and untouched by the shadow. A great portion of the white marble floor was covered in a luxurious emerald green rug that sank beneath the feet. There was a doorway on either side of the main chamber, both closed and both of the same deep, rich wood as the door they had just forced their way through.

Estel felt his eyes drawn to the large writing desk standing before the centre bay window, parchment and quills still strewn across it and even an ink pot open, though the ink had long since evaporated to leave behind a dark stain on the glass. It looked as though it had simply been left as it was, entirely untouched; in fact, Estel realised, that's what the whole room felt like – several pairs of shoes littered the floor in the far corner, and there was a chair beside a half finished dress that still had a cloak thrown over the back of it, pale stains clearly visible against the pearly white. Even the needle and thread lay waiting for their owner's nimble fingers on a small side table. It was as though the Queen of Mirkwood had never really left and the room still patiently awaited her return – but even all this could not deny the stale, dusty air that hung like a potent sting to the illusion, air that had not been breathed for generations of men.

The ranger's attention turned once again to the writing desk as Legolas sat down on the chair placed before it. It had always seemed much bigger when he was an elfling; or perhaps he had just grown. Memories bubbling just below the surface threatened to overwhelm him, and it wasn't until he felt the calm, steadying hand of Aragorn on his shoulder that he was able to hold them at bay.

"Hannon lle, mellon nin," he breathed, chancing a forced smile.

"Do not push this, Legolas," the ranger warned him gently; "There is only so much even you can take, and I need you here with me if we are to do this." His voice held the gems of wisdom that would grace him in the years to come, Legolas realised – but there was also the definite underlying tone of a certain Half-Elven Lord.

Closing his eyes, Legolas sifted through the memories, seeking the one that would help him. He saw his mother sitting where he was now, a soft smile playing across her fair face and lilies hanging lightly in her golden hair. Brushing aside her long white sleeve, she moved her hand down to the third draw on the left, and opening it, pulled a small lever to reveal a secret and hidden part below its bottom. From this, she removed a rectangular, green-leather bound book, completely plain and unadorned.

Snapping his eyes open before the past consumed him, Legolas let his hand fall down to the third draw on the left of the writing desk. With some trouble he pulled it open, for it was stiff with the centuries of disuse; inside lay a collection of plain, unused parchment, though where it had once been fresh and cream it had cracked and yellowed in its dark resting place. Pushing these up, he found the small wooden lever, almost unperceivable unless one were looking for it – and pulling this up, he found the hidden compartment. Holding his breath and praying that this trip had not been in vain, he allowed his long agile fingers to search for the treasure. His fingertips lightened on something hard but supple, and he knew he had found it. Grasping it tightly, he moved it out into light it had not seen since its mistress had last placed it there.

Estel gasped; it was a small thing, and to look at not particularly special, but he knew the implications of finding it and that was what caught his breath – that and the sneaking voice in the back of his mind that said this search would be fruitless.

Rising to his feet, Legolas eyed Estel pointedly, still grasping the diary in his hands.

"Could you – could you read – please?" Legolas asked in a quiet, almost pleading voice. "I do not think that I can."

Estel felt his heart go to his dearest friend then, and knew that at that very moment he could not have denied him anything within his power. Gently prying the white fingers from the little book, he turned towards the window for better light. Untying the binding keeping it closed, he let it fall open in his palm and the light of day illuminated a thin, lavish script across the delicate pages. Flicking through, the young man came abruptly to the end of the collection only two-thirds of the way into the book, and realised that the Queen had never been able to get any further. Glancing up at Legolas, he turned back a few entries, the better to understand the situation, working on the assumption that Nimlothnen may have recorded in her diary any suspicions she may have had.

Clearing his throat, Estel began to speak; and even as he did so, Legolas no longer heard his voice but the melodious tones of his mother, floating like golden leaves upon the air…

_I have something strange to recall to you today, my friend; for though it might be called small and insignificant, still it troubles my heart and I would lay down my thoughts to clear them. _

_I was walking today within my private gardens, with my beloved Legolas – oh, that you could see him, friend! For though he is young, he is as handsome as his father, with hair like to the first glimmering of Laurelin I am sure, and eyes of the deepest azure that are always asking me questions. His mind is full of questions about the trees and the grass and the birds. His nature is softer than his father's then, and perhaps more akin to mine… though no less stubborn for it, when he deems it necessary! That is a trait from his father, I am sure._

_But I am sidetracking; for whilst I was with Legolas this very day, I felt all the while that we were being watched. It was not a benevolent presence, which put me at unease, though the sky was clear and the sun bright. We came to pause at the centre green, and I could not shake this feeling still, even though the gardens are as secluded as can be, and none may enter without either mine or my beloved's permission. Legolas did not seem to feel it as I did and was content to play his little games. I decided that it must just be tiredness at the time, but now I am not so sure, for as we re-entered the Palace… no, I shall not write his name for fear of this being found; a loyal servant of my beloved asked us how the gardens had been today. You may think that I should not have found this unnerving, but for the fact that I had not told anyone where I would be that morning. _

_Yet, but for you, dear friend, I will keep my suspicions to myself, for it will most like turn out that they will come to no more than that. _

_Yours,_

_Nimlothnen._

"That must have been the start of it," Estel murmured, his eyes never leaving the page. "I wish she had used a name though."

"Read on," Legolas said with a strained voice, now staring resolutely out of the window. "There are entries after this?"

"Yes, several."

The Prince nodded him on, but did not speak again. Taking a calming breath, Estel glanced through the pages of elvish script. The next two mentioned nothing out of the ordinary – simply personal memoirs; in fact, Estel began to feel a little uncomfortable reading them until he found an entry that caught his attention.

_You will remember friend, that I mentioned to you a misgiving in my heart a few weeks ago. Now I am certain that there is more to this than meets the eye, for I have found a note in here, my own private chambers, of a most disturbing nature. I have asked my hand maids all already and they have said that none entered my rooms all afternoon; yet upon my return I found it lying upon my bed, waiting for me. Even looking at it I felt a strong sense of foreboding, though I have never had the gift of foresight. I shall recount to you its content, brief though it is._

"_My Lady, Most Beautiful of All the World's White Flowers;_

_Ever since your arrival I have known that you own my heart; I believe at first that you did not know it, or did not think to return my devotion. But over time you have given me reason to hope my lady, such hope that my reason cannot quench. I know that you must to some degree feel what I feel, see what I see. I know that you must fear the reaction of your Lord husband, but you must also know that my love for you would allow no other to harm you. I love you my lady; and knowing that you feel the same, I shall defend you when the time comes for you to leave him. I know that you must also break your heart at leaving your son too, for he must remain the Crown Prince of Mirkwood, I understand – but I promise to give you such love and happiness and with time children as to replace that ache in your heart._

_I will contact you again, my love;_

_Your Dark Watcher."_

Estel felt his blood run cold. _Your Dark Watcher_… This was the confirmation they needed, this was the proof that the same menace of the Queen was amongst them still!

"Is that entry finished?" Legolas asked, his voice like ice. Estel was reminded irrevocably of his father, the King.

"No – no, there is more," Estel said hastily, and continued once more, though not without noticing that the once steady script was now shaking slightly.

_So you see, dear friend, why I am so afraid? Yes, it is fear that I feel, for I know not who this Dark Watcher is – but wait; I may… Could it be him? Oh friend, let it not be so! I am more afraid now than I have ever been in my life, not just for myself but for my son and husband too. Who is this madman that he may claim so untrue a sentiment on my behalf? His own I cannot account for, but I can only hope that it is a passing sickness that will fade with time. _

_I cannot tell Thranduil of this; he has so much to fill his time that I do not have the heart to give him more worry. This will pass – _must _pass – for it cannot last forever. I think that though afraid, I am more resolute now. Him whom I suspect, I shall make all efforts to pay less mind to in the coming weeks, and to watch his reaction. I dearly hope, dear friend, that I am gravely wrong in my accusation._

_Yours,_

_Nimlothnen._

Again, Estel paused. He knew now that they were drawing close to the final stages of the race, that the next and final entry would reveal to them the final piece of the mystery. Yet he also felt a helplessness at the Queen's obvious distress, and the fact that he was several hundred years too late to help her. _But not her people_, he thought, _And_ _not her son._

"She should have gone to my father." Legolas closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the chill of the glass window. "She knew something was wrong – he could have helped her. He could have saved her." His voice was barely a whisper so that Estel's mortal ears had to strain to hear it.

"I know that this is hard for you, mellon nin, though - though I do not pretend to know how hard," Estel stammered awkwardly. "But it is useless for us now to look back with 'what if's and 'should have's. That is the past. We can only affect the future. Do you wish me to continue?"

"You know we must." Legolas took a deep breath and stood back from the window, looking at the young ranger. "And so do I. How many left?"

"Just one. The final entry."

Legolas nodded grimly. "Then start."

"It's only very short – half an entry," Estel frowned before realising why. "She – only wrote half – and meant to finish it when she returned." His mouth went dry. He could see Legolas' knuckles blaring white.

"Start," the Prince repeated, his tone brokering no argument.

Steeling his nerve, Estel began to read for the last time.

_My dear friend, something is terribly amiss. I found another note only yester eve from that same Dark Watcher as before, and I am certain now that him whom I suspected is the culprit. Oh cruel, ironic fate! For I fear that my recent actions to him may have only encouraged his advances and not stopped them as I had hoped. This second note is much shorter in nature than the first, but requests that I meet him this very night within the store rooms. So absurd a claim! By beloved is holding the New Year's dance tonight that I cannot think to miss, yet I know this ridiculousness must be stopped. I hope that when I meet him I will be able to set him straight in his wrong thinking, and that this may all come to an end. _

_Pray for me dear friend, for me heart is beating so fast and loud as to stir the very foundations of the earth. Oh Varda, give me the strength that I need to do this! I shall recount to you the events of this evening. I hope that it will be over, and soon._

_Yours,_

_Nimlothnen._

Deadly silence fell. Estel closed the diary, binding the leather together once more.

"That's it," he said hoarsely. "That's the last one."

Stepping around the Prince, he placed the diary back upon the desk and moved away, feeling as though he had decimated something sacred. He backed so far away as to lean against a tapestry on the far wall, closing his eyes and trying to make sense of the information. Dark Watcher? So it was the same elf as before that stalked their every step now…why? _Because_, Estel realised, _he did something terrible to the Queen. He killed her. A secret so well kept that none but himself know – except for me. I've been the catalyst that set off the reaction that's led to where we are. _He dropped his gaze to the floor.

"It was him." Legolas finally broke the weighty stillness with the shaky statement. "He killed her… and he's still here. Now he has to kill us to stop the truth unravelling."

"Do you know who he is?" Estel asked, a frown on his face as he continued to stare at the floor.

"Dark Watcher," said Legolas sadly. "I should have known it from the start, but it was too obvious to see – ingenious really. But it makes perfect sense – a loyal servant to my father that still walks these halls now."

"Do I know him?" Estel asked, turning his head slightly as his eyes trailed something across the carpet. Legolas was too distressed to see the movement, else he would have recognised it as the ranger's tracking skills at work.

"You have met him several time, mellon nin; and I have known him my whole life – "

"Legolas," Estel interrupted suddenly in a warning tone; "I thought you said that no one had been in these rooms for centuries."

"They haven't." The question startled the Prince, but the man's voice was what put him on edge.

"Then why," Estel asked slowly, finally raising his eyes from the floor, "Are there fresh tracks in the dust that are not ours?"

Alarm bells went off in Legolas' mind, but too late, and suddenly everything was happening at once. In slow motion, the Prince saw too late the dark shadow materialise from behind the tapestry behind Estel. His eyes widened in terror but shock caught his voice in his throat, inhibiting speech. Estel read his friend's face a split second before he heard an all but silent gush of breath behind him; then a sickening crack resounded through the air as a dagger pommel collided deftly with the bottom of his skull. Dazed he fell to the ground, his eyes sliding in and out of focus as gold and white stars erupted in a fountain of ringing in his ears. Even as his knees reached the ground, he felt the tip of the razor sharp blade pressed up against his throat, a strong hand holding him down.

In that instant, time froze – all Legolas could see was a scene playing out he had no power to stop.

"Good morning, _your majesty_," the oh-so-familiar voice spat out sarcastically, dark hair spilling around a face contorted with terrifying rage.

"You!" Legolas gasped, his voice raspy and low.

"Me," the traitor grinned maliciously back; _Dark Watcher_… oh so ingeniously simple.

**Mwahaha! Told you it was an evil cliff hanger! Though some of you may already have figured it out…**

**Reviewer Replies**

**_Mellaithwen_** – **LIKE OMG I SO KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN! Lol I told you you could blame Cassia for anything that might follow lol**

**_HarryEstel_** – **Lol no I never forgot it, I just had to let it rest for a while… And actually, taking a year out has completely given me loads more enthusiasm to write! This is despite the fact I now have even more important exams coming up (which was the reason I stopped in the first place…) but hey! Its all good! Hope you enjoy this!**

**_Joshua Nenya_** – **My gosh, you're right! Well thank you for asking and for remembering! I got an 'A' in my German in the end, so I was very happy! I'm afraid I gave it up after that though, and I only remember the slightly more interesting things, for example: mein po tut wie. I don't even know I if spelt that write… But it always makes me and my friends laugh! Oh I feel so bad that I made you wait so long yet you diligently continued to check… Well this story is nearing its end now, so I promise I will try and finish it! Enjoy!**

**_Coolio02_** – **Woo yes I am! And I'm afraid I've left you with an even WORSE cliff hanger than before… Oopa lolzzz well it just makes ending chapters so exciting! Enjoy!**

**_Yemi_** **_Hikari_** – **Thank you! Well I hope you continue to do so! **

**_grumpy123_** – **Well you're right, Rómen was definitely set up; have you guessed who the Watcher is yet? Not long til you find out!**

**_Mooduck_** – **Hey welcome onboard! I can only hope that my updating will prove to be a little more reliable than it has been over the passed year – well, if I get lazy, just kick me!**

**_Nietta_** – **Lol I'm glad the surprise was a good thing! What can I say, I like to keep you on your toes! Hence this wonderful little ditty mwahaha! Aww thank you, that's lovely to hear! Well, between you and me, I'm hoping this chapter will put me over the 100 mark, which will be the first time for me!**

**Well, hope ya'll enjoyed that, and remember: KICK ME IF I'M TAKING TOO LONG TO UPDATE!**

**Loadsa love, Estel xxx**


	10. The Dark Watcher

**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognise is obviously not mine :)

**Quick note:** I fully realise that this chapter has taken me nearly two years to get to you – but in my defence, its also 7,000 words long, so it was obviously going to take a long time. I have read through and checked it, but sorry if there are any lingering typos! Anyhoo, enjoy – if I still have any readers left that it :) Also, there is a NAUGHTY WORD in this chapter, as well as torture - you have been warned!

**Chapter Ten – The Dark Watcher**

"Tirmor – we trusted you!" The Prince's fair face was contorted in fury. "And you killed her – you killed your own Queen!"

"Save your words for those who care," Tirmor spat at him; "You pathetic little weasel, you would never understand; and but for your friend here, you would never have known! Hundreds of years I play my secret game and you think you can just waltz in on a whim and destroy everything? I think not." Dragging Estel with him, he began inching back towards the now gaping hole in the wall – Legolas mirrored his every movement.

"You are not going anywhere," he snarled, flashing icy eyes; "You will unhand that man; it's over. We know. There's nowhere you can hide any more, no more lies you can tell."

Tirmor chuckled darkly. "Silly, arrogant little Prince – you are in no position to be making any demands. I have taken orders from you and your filthy father all my life, but now I give the orders!" A manic light was in his face as he slowly drew one hand back into his pocket, keeping the other firmly on the knife at Estel's throat who with stars still dancing his eyes, could find no way to take advantage of the momentary weakness.

Legolas watched him warily, painfully aware that the room contained nothing, bar a chair, that could ever be used as a weapon. As Tirmor's hand reappeared, it seemed to be clenched tightly around something that Legolas could not see; and before he had a chance to dodge, Tirmor had showered him in a shadowy glittering power that stung his eyes and burned his gums. Stumbling backwards, he collided with a small table and as his hands fumbled they locked on something small, thin and pointed – the sowing needle. He could feel his mind beginning to numb as his balance swayed dangerously. From the floor, Estel watched helplessly as Legolas turned his back and collapsed onto the table, grasping and leaning over it for a few seconds, then slumped to the floor as his legs gave way and his eyes flickered as he hovered on the brink of unconsciousness. Without warning, Tirmor dealt Estel a second and heavier blow to the head, knocking him clean out. Breathing deeply, the traitor straightened up and brushed his hands off before dragging his prisoners back into the tunnel and throwing the tapestry over the entrance.

Romén's head snapped up as the door to his chamber was flung open, and his King strode purposefully in with the air of one who has had enough of being the last to know.

"Captain, I trust that you have good reason to bring me from my chambers – Kemen tells me you have a matter of dire importance to discuss. Explain yourself." His voice was curt and commanding, leaving no room for excuses.

The Captain dipped his head respectfully. "I apologise my Lord, but this cannot wait; at the trial yesterday, a close and supposedly loyal member of your staff lied to the full Council."

Silence. Thranduil's eyes narrowed. "This is a grave accusation. Think carefully before you continue."

"With all due respect sire, it is due to the gravity of this discovery that you are here. Culfin – inform the King of that which you have just told me."

Culfin swallowed hard and stepped forward from behind Romén's shoulder. "It was Tirmor sire" – several gasps resounded around the room, but the King remained unreadable –"he claimed, rightfully, that Prince Legolas asked me to send Captain Rómen to him as soon as I saw him. However, he also claimed that it was I who informed him of the Prince's request, when in truth, I did not speak to him at all that day."

Thranduil stared at Culfin with such intensity that he wished the ground would open up under him; and though it took a resilience of will, he managed to hold his King's gaze.

"Why did you not speak at the Council, if you are telling the truth?" The words were hard and ringing.

"Truthfully sire I – I did not notice," Culfin answered miserably, finally averting his eyes. "It was such – _seemed_ such an insignificant detail that I did not see the error until much later. For what it is worth," he added, "I am more sorry than I can say for the ill I may have caused."

"Your Majesty, we need to talk to Tirmor immediately," Rómen said urgently into the quiet aftermath of Culfin's words. "If he has made a mistake then let him claim so; but if not… Sire, we are dealing with someone very clever, and very dangerous."

"I am well aware of that, thank you Captain," the King replied shortly. "Kemen, you will go to my son's chambers and wake him; I want him here for this."

"As you wish, my Lord," Kemen bowed and swiftly turned on his heel in one fluid motion, vanishing into the corridor.

"My lord, I know it is not my place," Rómen started softly, and Thranduil's eyes pierced him. "The young Ranger – he has been attacked once already. If his attacker is still at large then I believe him to be very much in danger."

"I had his chambers guarded all night," Thranduil told him curtly.

"Then the twins, Lord Elrond's sons," Rómen persisted, "Alert them to the present danger."

"It is not your place to be issuing orders, Captain," the King pointed out.

"All the same sire…they are will want to know. If I may be so bold, they have a right to know."

The Elven King paused, considering not so much Rómen's suggestion as Rómen himself. A small eternity went by with the King scrutinising his Captain. Finally, he gave a sharp nod to a Culfin at the door – "Do as your Captain commands." Culfin started, flicked a quick look between his liege and commanding officer and bowed before running in the opposite direction Kemen had taken.

Rómen could hardly believe his ears. "Your Majesty – does this mean…?"

"I am not a fool Rómen – you are neither guilty, nor much use to this Household behind locked doors," Thranduil told him, holding back a sigh. "Before this day is through, I want the real assailant caught and behind bars – that is an order."

"It – it shall be done, my Lord," Romen forced out, full of confused pride. "And – and thank you, my Lord."

"Perhaps you have little to thank me for," the King replied in a quiet voice; "When you are in my position, Rómen – you have to be seen to act. For better or for worse." Rómen nodded solemnly, recognising the masked apology. Thranduil's eyes sought his and a mutual understanding passed that no further words were needed on the subject.

"Your Majesty!" came a suddenly cry. Rómen headed for the door as Kemen came hurtling back down the corridor. "Your Majesty, Prince Legolas is not in his chambers – his bed is still made and was never slept in."

"What? Then where is he?" demanded Thranduil, so that Kemen quailed beneath his gaze.

"Estel's chambers," said Rómen at once, and started off down the corridor in the wake of Culfin. When they reached the guest quarters however, they found quite a commotion.

"What do you mean, he is gone?" Elladan was insisting loudly, trying to force an answer out of a clearly intimidated guard who was trying and failing to stand his ground. "Men do not simply vanish, now where is my brother?"

"Dan, calm yourself, this will not help," Elrohir tried to reason. Culfin was by his side.

"What is going on?" Thranduil's voice boomed out, commanding silence.

"Your Majesty, far be it from me to question the ability of your guards, but this one has let my brother slip," Elladan said, glaring at the guard in question.

"Is this true? I ordered you to watch him all night," Thranduil intoned with a furrowed brow.

"I – my Lord – I do not understand – he must have left whilst I was away, I needed refreshment – but I swear to you I was not gone more than two minutes!" The young guard was almost visibly shaking.

"If both the young Ranger and your son are missing, sire, I would presume to guess that they are together," Rómen noted quietly to his King. "They must be within the Palace somewhere. I suggest we organise parties to find them at once."

"Agreed," Thranduil nodded, "See that it is done."

"Wait – Legolas is missing too?" quizzed Elladan. Rómen nodded affirmatively.

"Then you must let us help you search," Elrohir said at once, exchanging a dark look with his twin.

"As you wish, my Lords." Rómen bowed and swiftly set off with the twins, Culfin and the young guard in his wake. Kemen remained behind with the King.

"Your Majesty – if it is true that the culprit is still free, then it may not be safe for you to be alone. Allow me to escort you back to your chambers."

"Remain with me if you will, but I am headed for the Oval Room." Thranduil may have let it pass, but the glance between the twins had not gone unnoticed by him. All these events were linked, including the way his son had retreated into himself these past few days. There was more beneath the surface that he was not being told about, and before they could proceed, the truth had to be known.

-0-0-0-0-

The Oval Room was abuzz with members of the Royal Guard forming themselves into small groups and dividing sections of the Palace between them. Elladan and Elrohir watched the scene quietly, communicating with each other in silence.

"_My heart does not bode well, brother," _Elladan thought with a brooding look on his fair face.

_"Nor mine neither," _Elrohir agreed_; "Wherever they are…Dan, I think they're in danger." _His twin gave him a sharp glance_. "I cannot be sure but… Estel's mind is closed. I cannot feel him anywhere within the Palace walls."_

Elladan nodded, chewing his lower lip_. "Maybe they are not within the Palace walls…Could they have gone into the forest?"_

_"Not without a guard noticing – besides, Rómen checked before he came down here."_

_"I am glad at least that the King had the good sense to reinstate him." _Elladan admitted_._

_"Aye… but why?__ Why the sudden change of heart? Yesterday he was in a dungeon beneath the Palace, and now he has resumes his position. What catalyst began that?" _Elrohir wondered.

The elder twin watched deep in thought as Rómen sent the last search party off to the lower levels of the Palace, then pored over an intricate map that Culfin had just brought him. Elrohir frowned at the creased parchment, his keen elven eyes reading it down the length of the table.

"_That's a map of the Palace – including secret passages_," Elrohir noted. Almost at once the same thought occurred to both of them – "_Was there one to Estel's room_?"

Moving as one, they came to stand on either side of the newly released Captain, who was leaning with one hand on the table whilst the other elegantly traced the lines of the Palace walls. His golden hair was still trussed from his recent spell in captivity, and his clothes creased, but his emerald eyes seemed to burn with intensity.

"Rómen – it is good to see you back," Elladan greeted him warmly. Rómen spared him a swift smile before continuing to pore over the map. "I am surprised you did not join a search party," he murmured distractedly, astute eyes running again and again over the image of corridors as familiar to him as his own face.

"Actually, we need to speak with you first," Elrohir said, placing a hand on Rómen's shoulder. Confused, the Captain pulled away from the map. "What would you speak of?"

"What made the King change his mind?" Elladan said bluntly. Rómen looked up sharply.

"We mean no offence," Elrohir offered quickly; "Only we have seen your King's stubbornness…something important must have made him release you – some evidence cast in your favour, perhaps?"

Rómen paused before going on, choosing his words carefully, unsure of how much information to give. "Is this all you want to ask me?"

"No – we also need to know whether there is a secret passage connected to Estel's room."

Momentarily, Rómen frowned. Looking back down at the map, he traced the corridor to the guest rooms. Both inside and directly outside were two dark blue marks, and lines trailing elsewhere in the Palace. "Well – technically yes, there are two – but they have both been closed for centuries, blocked during earth tremors. There is no way anyone could have used them," he added as Elladan went to interrupt.

The twins paused, each searching in the eyes of the other for permission to speak. "We had better do this in the privacy of your office," Elladan said finally with an air of mystery.

"What can you have to say that my Guard cannot hear?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"We cannot risk being overheard by the wrong person – please Rómen, this is of a very personal nature regarding the King!" Elrohir pleaded.

"The King?" asked Rómen in bewilderment. "What can this possibly have to do with him?"

"Your office, Rómen," said Elladan firmly, fixing his gaze. Finally conceding, Rómen turned to Culfin – "Inform me immediately of any news" – before beckoning the twins through a door to his right. The heavily carpeting floor muffled the sounds of their boots, as candlelight cast long shadows along the walls.

"Do not let us be vague," Rómen started brusquely; "I have a duty to find my Prince, and your brother, and cannot waste time."

"We are not here to waste your time, Captain, we are here to help," Elladan said prickly, "You forget, we have been on the receiving end of an attack already – I want my brother safe, and I want this over."

"Then we are in agreement. Now, what do you so desperately need to tell me?"

"The passages - who has checked them recently?" he inquired, hearing his twin's thoughts – "_Tirmor was assigned to guard the passages."_

"Members of the Royal Guard, of course, accompanied by long serving household members. What is on your mind, sirs?"

"That there is someone close to the King whom we cannot trust – someone who will have served him for a very long time."

"Well most of the household staff has served the King since before any of us were even born. I repeat, what are you suggesting? That we have somehow been tricked? The Royal Guard are not so easily beguiled, I assure you."

"Forgive me my brashness, Rómen, but if your memory can be tampered with, then why not those of your men?" Elladan asked in a low, urgent voice. Rómen froze, staring at the son of Elrond with an unreadable expression.

"There is far more to this than someone who does not like us," Elrohir breathed, wary of being overhead. "There is more you need to know – we believe that there is a murderer in the Palace."

Rómen's eyes widened. "Impossible!" he spluttered, almost at a loss for words. "Impossible," he repeated resolutely, "There has not been a murder in the Greenwood for centuries, and certainly not within the Palace. Where have you gotten this notion from?"

Taking mental strength from his twin and a deep breath, Elladan took the plunge; "We have reason to believe that the murderer of your Queen, Lady Nimlothnen, is still at large within the Palace. Worse still, _he knows that we know_."

The words hung like blasphemy in the air. At the name of his late Queen, Rómen started and seemed physically winded.

"Impossible!" he repeated. "The Queen – the Queen was taken by Orcs, centuries ago, it is known – how could you possibly think this? It is treason!"

"It is the _truth_," said Elrohir emphatically. "At first we were unsure, but there can be no doubt, the evidence –"

"What evidence?" Rómen cut in curtly. "What possible evidence could you produce to back up this claim?"

"It – it is complicated," Elrohir sighed.

"It is our brother, Estel," Elladan said by way of explanation, unsure of how much information _he_ should venture.

"A mortal? What could he possibly know? The Queen was lost generations before his forefathers were born! This is madness I tell you!" Rómen was convinced the twins were insane, or drunk, they must be!

"He is no mere mortal," Elladan replied carefully, keeping himself in check. "He has the gift of foresight and – well, he has seen and heard…things – echoes of the past, witnessed by and locked within these very Palace walls. The more he has seen, the greater the danger has become – increased attacks, theft, threats –"

"What do you mean threats?" Rómen quizzed, his brow furrowed.

"Letters, from someone calling himself 'The Dark Watcher'. He seals with a dark tower."

"Why did you not come to me with this before?" Rómen narrowed his bright green eyes, scrutinising the faces of the twins, still not convinced.

"It is such a sensitive topic – we did not want to drag up old and buried memories," Elrohir said softly. "But you must believe us when we say that if this is true, then both our brother and the Prince are in grave danger."

"Within the walls of this Palace? That is impossible! I say again, you are mistaken, it cannot be true, the Queen – the Queen was taken by Orcs –"

"And whose word to you have for that?" demanded Elladan, frustrated at the barricade Rómen put up. "Her body was never found, so _how do you know_ it was Orcs?"

"She – she told the servants she was going riding before the New Years Feast, but she never returned. The search for her lasted weeks – the whole of the Guard were out, and the household staff, and the people, all of them – finally, a servant discovered her bloodied dress discarded near the southern border of the forest. The whole area was defiled, but the trail was cold – they had long since vanished into the dark depths of the Misty Mountains. Nothing else was ever found."

The twins shuddered at the eerie similarity to their own painful memories. Pushing past them, Elrohir tried to focus on the present. "No body was ever found, Rómen. All of the evidence may have suggested Orcs, but if it was what you all wanted to see…would you have looked elsewhere? Was a full investigation ever carried out?"

"No – but it was so obvious, there was no other explanation – "

"Rómen, we know how Orcs work, we have seen it first hand!" Elladan hissed. "They do not simply kill – for them an elf is sport, they will not just kill outright – " he cut off suddenly, running his hands through his hair. Elrohir placed a comforting hand on his twins shoulder. "It just doesn't make _sense_."

There was a pause. Rómen surveyed the twins, desperately trying to gauge whether or not to believe them. They were not liars, to be sure, but still…could this story really be true?

"Do you know which servant found her dress?" Elrohir asked in a solemn voice, dreading the answer.

"It was – _Tirmor_…" Rómen felt the bottom of his stomach plummet. It had to be a coincidence, it had to be – but he felt his mind slowly putting pieces together: the passages, the lie…

"Oh Eru," he whispered, "This cannot be…"

"I know it's a lot to consider, but –"

"No, you do not understand!" Rómen said, suddenly very agitated. "The evidence that convinced the King I was innocent was a flaw in someone else's – Tirmor's. He lied to the Council yesterday, when he said Culfin told him to find me, because _Culfin never saw him_."

The twins looked horrified. "Dan, it was Tirmor who was assigned to guard the passages!"

A knock at the door made all three of them jump. "Enter!" Rómen called swallowing away his dry throat, casting a glance over the twins that said, quite clearly, "Speak nothing of this." Culfin entered and bowed stiffly.

"Captain, the King is here and wishes an audience with you – also, the first of the parties has returned from the gardens without news."

"Thank you Culfin; show the King in." Rómen and the twins shared a final look before the King swept in, robes flurrying around him, and the three of the bowed.

"I had hoped to find you alone, Captain." The King at once noticed the taut atmosphere in the room, and wondered what he had walked in on.

"We are just leaving, Your Majesty," Elrohir said hastily, nudging his brother towards the door. Before they could leave with Culfin, Rómen called out to them – "Join a search party for your brother and the Prince, but tell someone where you are going. And Culfin? I need you to take the party that has just returned, and _find Tirmor_, as soon as possible. Tell no one why."

"As you command, Captain," Culfin replied, surprised at the urgency in the Captain's voice, but loathe to be the cause of more trouble.

In the Oval Room, Kemen was taking reports from the returned guards. The twins both watched as Culfin pulled the three who were finished with him and headed out of the chambers, up into the higher levels of the Palace. They paused before following.

"_Did we tell him enough_?" Elrohir wondered.

"_Did we tell him too much_?" Elladan replied darkly. "_He will tell the King what we have said, you can count on it."_

"_Perhaps it is for the best – this mystery cannot be solved unless the truth is revealed. Hundreds of years of deceit have led to this_."

"_Deceit continued by Tirmor – I cannot believe it! How could he be involved? I wish…but we cannot wait to find out. We must find Estel_." The sense of foreboding in Elladan's heart was growing more unnerving.

"_Where would we be, if it were us?" _Elrohir thought, trying to push the previous conversation from his mind.

Both knew, not from intuition but from experience, where they would find the Prince. "_The Queens Chambers_," they decided simultaneously and studying the map, found them located in a tower along from Legolas'.

"_A tower, brother_," Elladan frowned. Elrohir replied with a warning look, and escaping silently around the commotion, they followed the paths up to the higher levels of the Palace.

Passing Legolas' chambers, they followed the corridor to the turret, darkened by lack of light. Treading carefully, and straining their ears for the slightest noise, they wound their way upwards until the reached the landing. Here it became evident they were not the mornings first visitors. A rusty lock hung uselessly from an ornately carved wooden door, which had clearly been forced through.

"They will never think to look up here," Elrohir warned. "We should tell someone."

Elladan knew his twin spoke only sense, but he could feel how close they were – to turn back would waste time. "Rómen will," he decided; "if they do not find Tirmor, he will suggest this to the King…or the King may even decide it himself."

Elrohir held his tongue and motioned for his twin to lead on, but could not quell the sense that this was the wrong thing to do. Elladan could feel his misgivings but resolutely stepped into the eerie abandoned chambers, holding up his hand to shield his eyes from the light streaming through the windows after the darkness of the corridor. The pair stood, staring all about them as if waiting for an explanation, taking in the stale air and all the while fighting the feeling of familiarity that threatened to overwhelm them. The shoes in the corner, the dress over the chair…so like the way their own mother's chambers had been left, waiting patiently for their mistress's return. Even the Queen's diary seemed left open on –

"_Ro_," Elladan thought abruptly, "_Why is the diary on the floor_?"

Elrohir saw it and filled with alarm. Kneeling down, he ran his hand over the deep, dusty carpet. "_There are footprints here, Dan – and signs – signs of a struggle_."

Crouching down by his twin, Elladan saw it was true; some areas showed clear prints, but there something had clearly happened – two wide troughs of dust were swept away, and the carpet was brushed stiffly in the wrong direction.

"It's as though something had been dragged…" Elrohir murmured. Elladan silenced him with a steely grey look.

_"I do not want to make anyone aware we are here," _he warned. Elrohir shrugged apologetically._ "What does the diary say?"_

Carefully picking it up, Elrohir ran his slender fingers across the ancient yellowed pages, falling to the last few entries, even as their brother had done not long before. The content made them shudder. "_She knew – before she died, she knew…"_ The younger twin pressed his eyes closed, clenching his fists so hard his nails cut painfully into his palm. Elladan shared every ounce of his brother's ache, and rested his forehead against his twin's temple. "_We can do this_," he said emphatically, "_Ours is the past…we must focus on the present. I know you can be strong, Ro. Believe it_. _For Estel_."

Elrohir nodded, taking strength from his sibling's encouragement. "_We shall not fail him as we did her. We shall not lose him_."

Rising together, Elrohir closed the diary and placed it safely in his inner shirt pocket. "_So they were attacked – and dragged…where? The trail has a dead end."_

A pause. "_Ro, were there any secret passages in the Queen's chambers_?"

Stepping warily towards the wall where the tracks ended, they approached a heavily hung tapestry depicting a scene in a golden wood – "_Lothlorien_," they realised together, praying that the light of their Lady Grandmother might also guide them in the darkness to come. Reaching out, Elladan brushed the woven material lightly with his fingers. It was cold and stiff to the touch, the wall solid behind it.

"_It must be behind here somewhere…"_

Communicating silently, they positioned themselves at either bottom corner of the tapestry, and as one lifted it from the wall in a gush of dust and rancid air to reveal a hollow, concealing a small wooden door. Pushing the tapestry aside, Elladan took hold of the black steel handle and pulled. Creaking and moaning in protest, the door reluctantly forced its way through the thick carpet, embedding it with thick oaken splinters. The tunnel behind was as black as the pits of Moria and as silent as a tomb. As they stepped determinedly inside, they hoped that a tomb was not what it would turn out to be…

-0-0-0-0-

As the twin sons of Elrond left the room, Thranduil could feel his Captain watching them anxiously. Perhaps he was tired still, or else simply concerned by completing his task but he seemed uncharacteristically restless. Strolling to the desk, the Elven King removed his showy outer robes and flung them aside, revealing a deep velvet tunic in rich navy embroidered with silver. Turning to face Rómen, he leant against the table, crossed his arms and legs and waited for an explanation, his fiercely blue eyes shining in the candlelight.

Rómen felt the King's incessant gaze with increasing disquiet. He was torn between his duty and his fervent desire to spare this good family yet more pain.

"I have sent Guards all over the Palace and ground, your Majesty," he said, after what felt like an immeasurable pause. He stood tall with his shoulders squared, but would not quite meet his monarch's eye.

"So I have seen." Thranduil continued to watch his Captain closely, reaching out to his mind. There was something… dark, lurking like a shadow that he did not want to reveal. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up and an imperceptible shiver go down his spine. What could he sense that was so wrong?

"Your Majesty, please – " Rómen could feel the King pushing at his consciousness, feeling for an answer, but he did not want him to find out like that. With vaguely apologetic eyes, Thranduil retreated with a sigh.

"Rómen," he said softly, "Whatever it is, you must tell me, no matter how much it may hurt."

"I feel it is not I that will be hurt, your Majesty," replied the Captain with a thin and weary smile that did not stretch to his eyes. The notion suddenly struck Thranduil that Rómen was protecting him – a true Royal Guard, faithful in every way, and it warmed his heart.

"Tell me," he insisted firmly.

Rómen closed his eyes, surrendering to the will of his King – how could he do anything other? – but unsure of where to start. He hated his uncertainty and yet conviction that this situation would rapidly lead where he had no right to go – he was a rational, pragmatic soldier, organised and straightforward. The personal tragedies of others made him feel he was intruding on something private and closed off from all the rest of the world.

"Your Majesty – it is hard to know where to begin, or how to tell you," he started hesitantly, keenly aware of the intense look from his King. "But it may be" – (he took a deep breath) – " it may be that the murderer of long overlooked crime is loose within the Palace – that someone whom you have long known and trusted has grievously betrayed you."

The King's expression was unreadable. "Whose murder?"

Finally, Rómen raised his head and chiselled emerald eyes met searching sapphire blue, full off sorrow and compassion. "The murder of your Lady wife, your majesty."

Thranduil's jaw clenched involuntarily. His head swam with images and words and songs he had forcefully buried centuries ago, and with it all the pain and the bitterness that had consumed his soul. Feeling his legs shake, he gripped the table with white knuckles, his nails digging into the hard wood. Breathing deeply, he tried to speak, but could not, and turned his face from the Captain staring unseeing into the fire grate.

"You are mistaken, sir," he finally ground out, his voice strained and almost unrecognisable. "The Queen was taken by Orcs. There is no mystery."

Rómen felt a hundred different emotions welling up inside him – pity and compassion, the pain of his King, but also awkwardness and dread, knowing that if he stepped up now to offer comfort he would lose Thranduil forever. Loathe as he was to contradict him, Rómen had to explain.

"Your majesty, I know that is what all of the evidence pointed to but – but I have been informed of new evidence that suggests – "

"New evidence?!" The words exploded from Thranduil's mouth. Suddenly all the weakness he had felt a moment before vanished. "How can you possibly speak such idiocy? Do you mean to ridicule me? You, who were no more than an elfling, think you can tell me different?!"

Rómen physically flinched away from the emotional tirade pouring from his King and lowered his gaze to the floor. "Your Majesty, I know this must be unspeakably hard –"

"You know?!" Thranduil snapped maliciously, fuelling all of his pain into attacking his Captain. "You know what it is like, to have your heart pulled from your living chest, to have the dearest part ripped away whilst you watch, helpless – and knowing – knowing-" The King broke off, unable to speak around the rising lump in his throat. He ran his hands through his hair, over his face and neck, back through his hair, unable to be still and trembling all the while. Tears threatened but he resolutely held them back, unwilling to show the vulnerability that he keenly felt. "Trust me Captain," he managed hoarsely, "You do not _know_ – you have no idea."

Battered by this outburst, Rómen gaped silently at his King – this mighty strong figure who had never in his memory been so exposed as he was now. The quiet was broken only by Thranduil's ragged breathing, his chest rising and falling erratically as he tried to control it. It made what he had to say harder, but there was nothing he could do now but plough resolutely onwards.

"Your Majesty – you are right," he began softly. "I can never even begin to imagine your pain, and I pray to Eru I will never have to live through anything like it – but I cannot hide the truth from you, now matter how difficult it is. You deserve better than that."

Thranduil glared at him, but did not trust himself to speak. Rómen took that as permission enough to continue. "The sons of Elrond have informed me of threats they have received in the form of letters, signed with the mark of a dark tower…and the Ranger, Estel – they say he has had visions – of the past…"he broke off awkwardly, acutely aware of the bizarre notion he was suggesting. "I mean to say that – events that occurred with the walls of this Palace centuries ago, so horrific that they have remained as silent ghosts, have somehow communicated themselves through his sub-conscious mind. It may be because…he is human," he mused to himself, drawing the same conclusion that Elrohir had done.

"Be that as it may, Captain," Thranduil ground out slowly, each word measured, "You have no evidence to connect it to your Queen."

"Your Majesty – I believe I am right in thinking it was Tirmor who found – who made the discovery?" he asked tentatively. Thranduil gave a jerky nod. "He is the link," Rómen breathed; "Between the past and the present, his name recurs – he it was who was assigned to check the passages; he it was who lied to the Council. My Lord, I hope beyond hope that this is an ill conceived coincidence but…"

Rómen trailed off, awaiting his King's response. Thranduil was leaning on the desk again, but now his shoulders were slumped as though worn down by a heavy burden. "You believe that the dreams of the human are the murder of my wife," he said tonelessly. His beautiful, loving, trusting wife…even after all this time, Thranduil had not dealt with the grief of his loss; instead he had buried it deep in his heart, throwing himself into his work and duties, repressing and forgetting until the pain grew numb as though it were someone else's, viewed from a distance.

"I cannot know anything for sure, my Lord," Rómen replied gently.

"If the human had…he would have told Legolas," he muttered to himself, "He would have told my son, who would…but it makes no sense….but he has…"

Rómen quirked an eyebrow at his monarch's illogical ramblings, sensing that he heard only half of the conversation. Noticing his Captain's confusion, Thranduil cleared his throat.

"Suppose for an instant that you are right in your assumptions, and I in mine…there is one area of the Palace you will not have searched." Taking a deep breath, the Elven King drew himself up to his full height, once more squaring his shoulders. "Prepare an armed contingent, Captain," he ordered, his face set. "I think I know where we can find my son."

­­­­­­­-0-0-0-0-

A face was smiling softly down at him, a halo of golden light shimmering around it. He smiled softly as the fragrance of lilies wafted like a blanket, warm and gentle, as the melody of his favourite lullaby hung like sweet spring rain in the air.

_"See the white stars shining now,_

_In the sky,_

_Of the night,_

_See them shining clear and bright,_

_For their fair lady…"_

Legolas sighed deeply at the face of his mother, her eyes as green as her forest home, her skin as fair as snow. He felt only as he could feel in her presence – safe, from the entire world, from his father's expectations, from everything.

"_My precious son_," she whispered softly, kissing his forehead. "_My brave little Legolas…little no more, but a warrior grown_." Her tone was sad. "_A warrior…you must be strong, my love, just a while longer_."

Stay with me, he wanted to say, but could not make a sound. Frowning, he struggled to follow her as she began to drift away. She smiled wistfully at him, but shook her head. "_You cannot follow where I go...but I never left you, sweetling…"_

Then stay! Don't leave! he wanted to scream, but she was dissolving like the morning mists.

"_Wake up, Legolas_," her voice called, "_Wake up now…wake up_…"

"Wake up!" Icy water sloshed at face, throwing the real world back into sharp perspective. Gasping for breath, he blinked the streaming water out of his eyes, his head sluggish and pounding. He was gagged, his hands and feet were bound behind his back, and he was lying on a hard, damp stone floor, and it was cold, windy – the realisation dawned that he was outside.

"So nice of you to join us, your Majesty," a voice spat, and Legolas felt a heavy boot collide with his ribs. He choked on the soaked rag in his mouth as he instinctively took a sharp intake of breath. "You've been asleep for quite some time now. Been missing out on a whole world of fun – hasn't he, human?"

Looking around, Legolas saw the face of his tormentor – Tirmor, his eyes wild with savage passion, his shirt rolled up to his elbows and his hands bloodied. Anger surged through every nerve in Legolas' body, and he struggled uselessly against his bonds, writhing like a mad thing on the floor. Tirmor laughed mercilessly, mimicking the Prince's frenzied movements. "_I'm a Prince, let me go, I'll tell Papa_!" he mocked. "Ha! Do not waste your energy you fool, you're not going anywhere. No one is coming to save you, least of all your ignorant idiot of a father."

Legolas glared, such hatred seething in his eyes that he was sure it could kill the lying bastard where he stood. But this only made Tirmor laugh louder. "But no wonder you are frustrated – look at what you've been missing!" Standing aside, Tirmor revealed the slumping figure of Estel groaning softly on the stone floor. He raised his head just enough to look into Legolas' eyes – at least, as much as he could. One was already black and swollen shut, and the other not far off it. Tirmor had removed the Ranger's shirt, and the whiplashes on his streaked back spoke only too clearly of a flogging. His breathing was hitched and strained, convincing Legolas of at least one broken rib. Frozen and immobilised, the Prince could only gaze on in horror.

"The problem with humans of course," Tirmor carried on conversationally, as he stepped towards the tortured man, "Is that they break far too easily – far too quickly. They simply don't have the resistance of, say, an elf. Do you, human?" The question was accompanied by a boot to the chest, causing Estel to cry out in pain and curl in on himself.

"No pride at all," Tirmor muttered, disgusted. "Even your mother showed more fire than this pathetic pile of skin and bone." Tirmor eyed Legolas tauntingly, trying to evoke a reaction. "She struggled to the last and never gave in…unlike this." Tirmor spat on Estel's helpless form. "I bet he would even beg for death…" Bending down, Tirmor grabbed a fistful of Estel's hair and yanked his head back up. "Shall we find out?"

Involuntarily, Legolas shook his head his eyes pleading with his irrational, crazed captor as he reached for his lash, giving Tirmor all the answer he needed. Breathing heavily in Estel's ear, Tirmor's eyes never left the Prince's. "Beg for death," he grinned, "Ask me to end it and its over."

"N-never," the Ranger croaked, spitting out blood, emitting another cry as Tirmor dropped his head back down and rose up.

"Oh I beg to differ," he muttered.

Every single time the lash rose, and with every cry his friend made, Legolas could feel his soul being torn apart; hot tears streamed down his face and clouded his vision and Estel's body jerked and twisted away uselessly. For an eternity, the world was nothing but that small, secluded courtyard – until finally, Estel stopped making any sound and simply lay motionless on the floor. "Enough," he whispered between broken lips, "Enough…"

Flustered and flushed with fervour, Tirmor paused at the small sound. "Do you yield?"

No reply. A another half lashes followed, another keening cry – "I yield – I yield!"

Wiping his dripping brow, Tirmor stepped around and knelt down in front of the Ranger. "Do you yield?"

Brokenly, sobbing, Estel nodded. "Yes…"

"And you want me to end it for you?" Tirmor asked almost soothingly. Legolas screamed and writhed on the floor, his voice muffled by the gag. Again, Estel nodded, no longer caring if he lived or died so long as the pain went away.

"Then you ask for death – and so shall I deliver," Tirmor intoned with almost pious severity. "Pitiful creature...so like water; no substance, no strength, no resilience. So by water you shall die."

Legolas screamed and screamed, tearing at the ropes that tied him to no avail as Tirmor dragged Estel's forlorn body towards a marble fountain...a familiar marble fountain – with a shock that skipped a heart beat, Legolas realised where they were; in his mother's garden! Despair enveloped him – they were so close, so close to the Palace, but no one would ever think to look for them here; they were doomed – his friend, his loyal innocent friend was about to die and there was nothing he could do.

In one swift movement, Tirmor heaved Estel's body up and over the edge and into the icy water. Breaking the surface of the shallow pool, he gasped for breath as Tirmor's hands tightened around his throat – he clawed at them, but he was too weak, too weak to do anything but watch.

"You are the reason I lost the only thing I have ever loved – now it is your turn."

With a final malicious grin at the Prince, Tirmor thrust the man's head under water and held him with fierce strength. Estel flailed and fought and sent water soaring in steely showers over the fountain's edge, but he was too weak...gradually, the struggling began to subside, and suddenly, it ceased. Legolas sobbed, straining his ears for any sound of life. Nothing. He felt numb was the truth seared him like fire – Estel was dead.

**Nothing like a good cliff-hanger to begin another two year wait for a chapter ;)**


	11. Black and Gold Epilogue

**Disclaimer: All rights of recognisable characters exactly where respect is due; and the poem featured is called '_Autumn__'_ by Walter de la Mare. In this chapter it appears with the last stanza first, and the first two further on – its just that it suited the following prose better.**

**A/N: Well, this is it, my friends. It has been a long and arduous journey, a trying adventure for us all – but finally, after nearly five years, this is the final chapter of Lullaby. I want to thank everyone who had the patience to stay with me all this time, even though you are few in number – this is dedicated to you, who kick-started me into motion this summer! So without further ado, read on!**

**Chapter Eleven –Black and Gold; Epilogue **

_"Sad winds where your voice was;_

_Tears, tears where your heart was;_

_And ever with me,_

_Child, ever with me,_

_Silence where hope was."_

Stepping away from the lifeless body, Tirmor let it fall to the ground with a sickening thud. Estel's head caught on the wall and rested at an unnatural angle, unmoving against the cold stone. Tirmor sighed as though irritated.

"I really had hoped to keep him around for a while," he said casually, drying his hands on his trousers. "It clearly pained you to see him like that...still, no matter," he said more brightly, turning his eyes to his bound quarry. "We can still spend such _quality_ time together."

Legolas lay unresponsive upon the cold ground. A part of him wished and begged and willed Estel to take just one gulp of air, to give any sign that he was alive...but as the seconds rolled slowly by, and the young Ranger remained where he was, realisation dawned. The would be no gulp of breath, no miraculous stirring of life within those trusting, sea-grey eyes; eyes that had followed him unquestioningly, eyes filled with so much hope that they seemed to be trying to drown out all of the darkness in the world. But his battle was over now, the darkness seeping through his veins as his life's heat gradually faded into the mist around them. In the end, there simply had not been enough hope. Legolas tried to picture the dreadful scene in which he would have to tell Lord Elrond of the death of his youngest son; the sorrow and dismay in that timeless face, the dismissal of this Wood Elf who had failed in his duty, broke his heart even further.

Yet even as despair clawed at his consciousness, another emotion flared up to counter it: defiance. Broad and pure, unflinching and adamant, a defiance of this creature before him who gazed with such manic eyes and was driven by such disturbance. If Estel must die at the hands of such a twisted being, let it not be said that he, Legolas Thranduilion and Crown Prince of Mirkwood, let his fate be in vain.

Steadying his breathing with this new resolve, he focused more clearly on the bindings about his hands. The knots were tight, but not expertly set; if he were patient enough...

A heavy, well-aimed boot up under his ribs suddenly knocked the breath from him, causing more stars to dance in front of his eyes. Again instinctively breathing sharply in, he choked on the restrictive gag.

"Such angry eyes, my Prince!" Tirmor laughed feverishly, who having retrieved a small dagger was now twiddling the point on his thumbs. "Perhaps losing one would teach you a little more respect..."

Kneeling down, he grasped a handful of the Prince's golden hair, yanking up his head and tracing the knife point over porcelain skin. "You so much resemble your mother," he whispered, almost wistfully. "She was so very beautiful, you know... But I stopped that. I ended those serene glances she said she never sent me, playing with my head, sending me secret messages that only I knew. We loved one another, and _that is how it was supposed to be!_" he erupted suddenly. Legolas stared straight back into his black eyes, deliberately not focusing on his words, still loosening the knots about his hands.

"But you can't look like her; she was the only one I ever loved. You are just surplus," he sneered, and digging deeper with the dagger he traced a crimson line from the corner of Legolas's right eye down his cheek, splitting the cloth gag. Gritting his teeth, Legolas just glared back as the white hot sting spread down his face. It was not deep enough to scar, but his pounding heart caused the head wound to bleed freely, sending drops of scarlet running into the gag and the bitter iron taste of his own blood in his mouth as he spat the material out. Repositioning the tip of the blade perilously close to Legolas's right eye, his mouth spread in a dour smile.

"Now," breathed Tirmor; "About those eyes..."

What happened next was so swift that it took the Prince a few seconds to register and process the events in his mind; two identical shapes erupted from a doorway hidden behind creeping ivy, blurred by their speed but unmistakably elven.

As they burst from the tunnel, the twins swiftly took in the appalling scene before them; Legolas, bound and gagged on the floor at the mercy of as yet an unknown assailant, and Estel, unconscious by a fountain.

Before Tirmor could spin around, Elladan's strong hands were about his shoulders, whipping him around to land a throbbing punch square on his nose. Reeling, Tirmor dropped his dagger and stumbled to the floor away from the Prince. As Elladan pursued him, the fire of exploding stars in his eyes, Elrohir knelt swiftly down by Legolas, his face set grimly as he pulled the gag from where it hung loosely around the Prince's neck.

"Are you –" he began to ask, but Legolas cut in frenetically –

"Estel – " he croaked; "He drowned him, in the fountain – you have to see – to try –"

Elrohir's eyes widened and he leapt away from the prone Prince to his little brother. Hauling him over on his back, he felt frantically for a pulse. Setting about clearing his airway, he demanded of Legolas in a clear, deep voice like his father's, "How long ago did this happen? How long has he been here, Legolas? He is still warm but I need to know, _precisely_."

"I – maybe a minute or two, perhaps three –"

Elrohir hissed in dismay, then taking a deep breath, covered Estel's nose and breathed three times into his mouth. Then kneeling higher, he set his hands on the young man's ribs and pressed sharply ten times, then returned to breathing for his brother.

_Do not do this to me, little one_, he begged, praying to Elbereth that if there was any good left in the world it would work in the favour of this one, desperate man. _I have lost my mother; I cannot stand to lose you as well._

"Damn it, breathe Estel!" he ordered, as if he hoped to frighten his brother into breathing. "Come on, breathe, _breathe_..."

Elladan had Tirmor by the scruff of the neck and had aimed another powerful fist at the wood elf's temple. Stunned slightly, his eyes slid a little out of focus just as the elder twin heard his brother's desperate command. In his determination to subdue Tirmor, he had not seen who Elrohir was attending to, and suddenly felt the same icy tendrils clutch his heart. _Sweet Eru, no, not him, anyone but him..._

"Elrohir, what happened? What's wrong with Estel?"

Barely sparing his twin a grim glance, Elrohir pressed on. Again and again, the cycle of beating and breathing for the Ranger, five or six times over, refusing to accept any other scenario than the one where he woke up. He paused to check again for a pulse, put his keen elven ear to Estel's chest and listened intently. For all three, it seemed as if at that moment that time froze and the world stopped turning, watching and waiting, hoping and praying...

An eternity passed. And then – Estel took a great, shuddering gasp of air that rattled his ribs and shook his body. Elrohir nearly wept with joy as his gripped the young man's shoulders and, resisting the urge to embrace him, pulled him over onto his side as Estel struggled to breathe on his own and dispel the water from his lungs in rasping, wracking coughs.

Legolas felt the tension in his body release into the air with Estel's breath – he was alive, breathing and alive! Turning joyful eyes toward Elladan he saw, to late to warn the elder twin, as his former servant took full advantage of his captor's distraction and reaching inside his pocket for something, threw a handful of sparkling black dust full into his face. Crying out, Elladan's grip on Tirmor was released as he pulled his hands back to his stinging eyes and he stumbled backwards, tripping over Legolas's bound feet to land in an undignified heap.

"Elrohir, you must help him – that powder is dark magic, stay away from it!" Legolas cried desperately, trying to writhe around and see if the elder twin was still conscious.

Elrohir felt torn; in his arms, Estel was still struggling to grasp a normal breathing pattern, his breaths deep and quick – but his twin, the other half of his soul, was lying defenceless in the face of an attacker and he was unarmed. Praying he was making the right decision, he leapt to his feet and over Estel's body, taking a defensive stance in front of his brother and the Prince. Tirmor wiped the blood dripping from his nose and eyed him maliciously, as fully aware as Elrohir just how vulnerable the Noldor Elf was.

"Watch where he puts his hands," Legolas warned, as he tried to move swivel around on the floor to Elladan's side. The elder twin was groaning softly, and would not remove his hands from his eyes.

Swallowing dryly, Elrohir allowed his mind to clear of the chaotic emotions currently ricocheting within it and flooded his body with the sharp, acute agility of a warrior. His eyes never left Tirmor, but he used his peripheral vision to detect anything that could be used as a weapon.

"There is nothing," Tirmor snarled, understanding the twin's flickering eyes, and with a sneer swiftly withdrew his hand from his jacket pocket and pretended to throw at Elrohir's face. Flinching, Elrohir's arms instinctively came up to protect his eyes, but he realised to late the ruse he had fallen foul of and before he could regain his defensive position Tirmor had slammed into with his shoulder, knocking the wind from his chest. Wheezing, Elrohir fell back a few steps, mindful not to trip over his brother or the Prince. Timor laughed, a sound that held no mirth and did not reach his eyes.

"Why are you doing this? We have told the King all about you, your story is known! You cannot hope to run from his justice. Give yourself in," Elrohir bluffed, trying to buy them some time. In truth, he did not know whether the King would know yet, or what Rómen had chosen to tell him – but he was running out of options.

"Do not lie to me, elfling," Tirmor said, dismissing the bluff out of hand. "Thranduil will see what he wants to see, he always has, the fool. I will finish you all and no one will ever be the wiser for it. Your attempts, while pathetically noble, amount to nothing. You merely delay the inevitable."

"Is this what she would have wanted?" Elrohir demanded, deliberately keeping his voice steady and rhythmic, deep and calm. "Is this what your Queen would have desired? More innocent blood spilt – the blood of her own son – here, in this place of such beauty?"

Tirmor fixed the twin with a look of rage. "You are not fit to speak of my love," he spat. "You would not understand how much I have scarified – what I was willing to sacrifice...She brought it on herself – as have you!"

Without warning, Tirmor lashed out at Elrohir again with the small dagger he had used on Legolas – but this time, Elrohir was ready. Spinning deftly, he met the force of the blow on his left shoulder and deflected the blade with a swift knock to Tirmor's arm. As the knock shifted Tirmor's balance and he was propelled forward by his own thrust, Elrohir stuck his leg out and sent the wood elf sprawling across the marble floor. The dagger clattered away over towards Estel who seeing it began pulling himself along, coughing and wheezing all the while.

Following his adversary, Elrohir knelt on his chest and pinned his arms to the floor above his head. "It is _over_," he hissed. "You must yield. Thranduil may yet show mercy. This need not end with more bloodshed."

For a moment it seemed as though Tirmor might even have heard Elrohir's words – that somewhere, deep inside his unconscious mind a fragment of goodness that had not been twisted by bitterness reacted to the compassion. But it was too little too late – wriggling one arm free, he blew what he had left of the black powder from his hand straight into Elrohir's face. Then squeezing his legs up underneath him, Tirmor unleashed them like a spring and now it was Elrohir's turn to go sprawling backwards onto the floor, landing across his twin's legs. Elladan gave a cry of pain even as golden stars swam in Elrohir's eyes as the potent mixture attacked his senses. The world seemed to lurch around him even though he remained still, swaying beneath him like the deck of a ship.

Taking advantage of the reprieve Tirmor span up onto his feet and grabbed at the knife, mere inches away from Estel's fingertips. Stamping on the human's hand for good measure, he quickly advanced on Elrohir. Dazed though he was, Elrohir kicked out at Tirmor's knee before the dagger could get into range, and cursing he fell once more to the floor. Elrohir struggled to regain his feet, but could not right his skewed senses and suddenly a blazing pain seared through his upper left thigh. Looking down, his saw Tirmor's manic grin and the blade of his dagger half-buried in his leg. Shock seemed to clear and freeze his senses for a fraction of a second, but it was all Tirmor needed to rip the blade from the soft flesh, tearing from Elrohir's lips an unbidden scream of pain. As blood pumped from the wound, Tirmor clambered up his body, resting the bloodied blade against Elrohir's throat. The whites of his eyes were clear to see and veins were almost popping from his neck, and the Noldor elf tried desperately to shift his head away from that fearsome grip – only to find himself trapped by his twin's legs.

"Goodbye, son of Elrond," Tirmor breathed –

THWACK! From nowhere, a white fletched arrow landed squarely in Tirmor's right shoulder. Crying out in pain, he released the dagger and fell backwards. Suddenly all around them were uniformed members of the Royal Guard, long knives drawn and arrows notched to bows.

Caught somewhere between joy, relief and blinding pain, Elrohir could hardly believe his eyes. Within moments, Tirmor had been subdued by no fewer than four members of the Guard; a few heavy kicks and punches seemed to quell any spoiling he had for a fight.

Twisting around to his brother, he tried to pull his hands from his eyes.

"It's alright Dan, all is well – we are safe, the Guard are here." Gently he tried to coax Elladan's hands away from his face, to find them unfocused and bloodshot, tears desperately trying to weep away the black substance that tore at their fragile surface.

"You four," a regal voice ordered, "Keep hold of him, do not tend his wound. Rómen, see to the young Ranger - the rest of you, check the twins' injuries, and see if you can get them on their feet."

It was a voice so familiar to Legolas that it was as almost indistinguishable from his own – _but he cannot be here_, he thought wonderingly, _he could not have come_ –

The face of his father appeared suddenly in his field of vision, concern etched into the lines of his eyes and brow. A gentle hand wiped away the blood trickling down his cheek. "Oh Legolas," he barely breathed. Their identical eyes met and Legolas smiled weakly up. There was nothing else that either could, or needed to say. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Thranduil took a knife to the rope at his son's wrists, cutting through them as though they were butter. Pulling Legolas up into a sitting position, he knelt on the floor beside him and pulled him into a fierce embrace. Welcoming the warm touch, Legolas sighed and relaxed into the strong arms. He could not remember the last time his father had held him like this...it must have been decades ago.

"I am sorry father," he whispered, "I should have told you everything, but I did not know – you were so occupied –"

Thranduil growled deeply and breathed in the smell of his son's hair. _So occupied_... "There is nothing to forgive, my son –" he paused, not knowing how to continue. There was so much left to say between them, so much they would have to come to terms with...but not yet. For now, it was just enough that they were both there.

"Come – do you feel strong enough to stand?" Thranduil asked, pulling away to look at his son's face. Legolas nodded, wiping at the superficial wound to his cheek. Holding it gently, Thranduil bent for a closer inspection. "It is not deep," he concluded, satisfied. "It should heal quickly enough. Now come, I will help you up."

Rising to their feet, Legolas leaned heavily on his father's shoulder. _Her garden...how could such terrible events take place in this sanctuary?_ Thranduil wondered, his blood beginning to boil. The fountain sang its continuous song, the water twinkling like stars, constant and unaffected by the scenes around it. Last years lily pads floated gently upon the surface. Thranduil had forgotten all about the tunnel to this garden – Nimlothnen had often used it, but time and sorrow had wrought their work upon his memory. It would need tending, his noticed absently. Pulling himself back to the present, they surveyed the scene before them

Rómen was on his knees next to Estel, who was sitting upright and leaning against the Captain. Offering up a shaky smile to Legolas, he allowed Rómen to fuss over him, checking the wounds that Tirmor had dealt him. His body felt so exhausted, so entirely drained that the thought of standing made him feel queasy, and his back still ached from the lashings he had received. In a fortunate twist of fate, the icy water from the fountain had both cleaned and numbed the wounds a little, although as shock set in he was beginning to involuntarily shudder. Noticing this, Rómen removed his cloak and carefully draped it softly around his shoulders, rubbing his arms to try to warm him a little. But there was no cloak that could dispel the cold in his heart, he reflected darkly. He had been close so death that time, too close...he could still feel the ever-lasting darkness, the nothingness that had appeared before him. Despite Rómen's efforts, he continued to shiver.

Elrohir was sat on the fountain's edge with his brother, using the water to try and wash the stinging from Elladan's eyes. The elder twin was leant so far over that his head was practically submerged, but the pureness of the fountain was working and gradually the pain lessoned. Sitting back up, he blinked what he could from his eyes and though his vision was still not perfect, he gave a small smile to his twin. They were surrounded by another four members of the Guard, two of whom were tending to the wound on Elrohir's leg. He felt a somewhat light-headed from the blood loss, but it was not enough to put him in danger and he seemed to have been fortunate in having only the remnants of Tirmor's dark substance in his eyes as his vision was almost entirely restored.

Thranduil's gaze shifted finally to Tirmor, who was knelt sullenly between four members of the Royal Guard, two with arrows notched and trained on his back. The white shaft of the arrow in his shoulder swayed slightly in the breeze, but Tirmor pursed his lips and made no sound. Thranduil stared hard, still disbelieving that someone whom he had trusted for so long had betrayed him so utterly. Tirmor, however, would not raise his eyes from the flagged ground.

Clearing his throat, the hushed tones that hovered in the air ceased. "Captain, please escort the sons of Elrond back to their chambers and see that the healers attend to them immediately," he ordered. His tone brooked no argument. Rómen nodded in acquiescence and beckoned for the remaining two members of the contingent, who had been standing sentinel near their King and Prince, to come and help him get Estel to his feet.

However, torture wounds or no, Estel had other ideas. "Your majesty, please – I want to stay. I need to hear this out...see it through to the end..." He hissed in pain as one of the Guards unwittingly gripped a wound on his back. The haunted tone in his voice did not go unchecked by the twins.

"Young man, you can barely see anything at all," Thranduil replied looking pointedly at the Estel's swollen black eyes. He admired the Ranger's resilience, but that he should have suffered such a fate within his own grounds was shameful enough – he would not see the same neglect shown to his healing process. "What I owe you..." Thranduil struggled for words, a rare event for the monarch. "You can never know how indebted my Kingdom is to your bravery. Please, do not let me see you suffering more than you need to."

"Your majesty," Elrohir said, "With all due respect...my brother is right. What you do now with this elf is as tied to our fate as it is to yours."

Elladan growled his agreement. "I would see justice done," he said, scowling hard at the bent form of Tirmor. Rising to his feet, he dropped back down next to Estel and held his face in his hands, peering through his watery eyes deep into his little brothers. The open, honest fear he found there sent a flame up in his chest. No one hurt his family like this and got away with it.

"There is no justice you could serve him that would not be too merciful," Elladan said bitterly. Estel sighed and closed his eyes, leaning forward into the twin's shoulder.

Thranduil hardened his gaze. "You voice the thoughts of my own heart, son of Elrond. Rest assured this traitor will pay dearly for what he has done. But you will not be here to see it."

"Father, let them stay," Legolas urged quietly. The King glanced at his son, their eyes almost of a height. _Now we are not the only ones seeking revenge for a loved one_, those eyes said. _Let them stay._

The King paused, unsure. This was no longer a private matter, and he could feel the need for retribution radiating from the twins.  

"Very well," he grudgingly nodded in assent. Turning his attention to the elf kneeling before him, Thranduil reined in the beast of vengeance roaring in his heart. "Look at me, traitor," he spat. Tirmor remained unresponsive. "I said, look at me!" One of the Guards gripped Tirmor's hair and pulled his head back, forcing his eyes to meet Thranduil's. A sly sneer tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he remained silent.

"Tell me that our suspicions are mistaken," he said. "Tell me that you have not deceived me all these centuries...tell me you did not kill your Queen."

The words hung like a lifeline in the still air if only Tirmor would grasp them – but he would not. He remained resiliently silent, still looking at Thranduil with that half sneer ghosted across his lips. "Will you not speak at all? To explain or defend yourself?" he demanded. Still, neither defence nor a confession was forthcoming.

"There is evidence, your Majesty," Elladan spoke up, squinting at the King through hazy eyes. "Your Queen's diary..." He trailed off, unsure as to whether he should voice those private thoughts.

"He is right, Ada," Legolas nodded. "The last few entries – whilst she does not name him, she refers to a Dark Watcher – "

"The same Dark Watcher who threatened us," Estel added.

"Is – _his_ name mentioned?" Thranduil could not bring himself to say the word, it was too bitter on his lips.

"No, Ada," Legolas admitted. "But before you arrived – he confessed to me of his guilt." The Prince's eyes clouded with pain, just avoiding his father's gaze. Thranduil paused, staring deep at his son. Finally, understanding what had come to pass, he turned to Tirmor.

"Dark Watcher," he echoed. "Your name betrays you, even if your words will not. How could you do it?" he asked, his voice beginning to shake with anger and other emotions that had not threatened him for centuries. He had lost his wife, seen his son held captive and now here was the twisted creature responsible for it all.

Still, Tirmor would not speak. Thranduil resisted the urge to stride over and tear him apart with his bare hands. "Take him to the dungeons," he ordered. "I cannot stand to look at him any longer – but wait. Tell me one thing." Thranduil fortified himself, gripping Legolas's hand so tightly his knuckles went pearly white. "My wife's body...where does she lay?"

The grin that had threatened to spread across Tirmor's face now did so, beaming white mocking teeth at the King. Slowly shaking his head, he spat at Thranduil's feet. The impulse became too much, and stepping forward Thranduil used all his strength to back-hand Tirmor, wiping the smile from his face in a sudden fit. Tirmor snapped his head back around, and spat a bloodied tooth out at the King's feet. Drawing back disgust, he nodded at the Guards. "You will want to tell me the truth before I am finished with you, I promise you that. Take him away."

As soon as Thranduil removed his eyes from his prisoner, Tirmor sprang with unexpected force to his feet, knocking the two Guards by his side to the floor. Estel and the twins watched helplessly, as if the scene passed in slow motion; lunging to his feet, Tirmor drew another blade from within his boot and plunged across at Legolas. Seeing this, Thranduil pulled him aside, wrapping his son's body in  his own, preparing to take the fatal blow – then with a sudden whistle of air, the two archers behind Tirmor let their arrows fly to land with sickening thuds side by side in the back of Tirmor's neck. Thranduil watched with guilty pleasure as the metal head's protruded from his throat, the force of the thrust having sent them through bone and flesh. Tirmor stopped, his eyes wide as though surprised. The knife fell uselessly from his hand as his limbs went limp. He seemed to stand there for an eternity, before his legs crumpled underneath him and he collapsed to the floor, unmoving and dead.

Not a soul moved. All eyes watched the growing pool of blood seeping from the mortal wound across the grey flagstones. Thranduil tore his eyes away from the body to the faces of the archers. Their eyes seemed to ask forgiveness but were set in adamant; their duty was to protect their King. Thranduil knew that having done exactly this, he could not have asked more of them. And yet...his one chance of ever finding his wife, of ever knowing her true fate had fled with the life essence from Tirmor's body – as had his one opportunity to make this monster suffer. So quick a death had been a mercy he would not have shown. In the end, it was his voice that stirred them all.

"Take the sons of Elrond to the healing chambers," he asked, his voice emotionless but as hard as diamond. Estel stared in horror at the body on the floor. Everything he had seen and dreamt, it all led up to this moment – and it suddenly seemed flat and anticlimactic. It was over, and he was free. But it was a hollow victory and as Rómen and another Guard pulled him gently to his feet, he realised that for the King and Prince, resolution was only just beginning.

**EPILOGUE**

_"There is a wind where the rose was;_

_Cold rain where sweet grass was;_

_And clouds like sheep_

_Stream o'er the steep_

_Grey skies where once the lark was._

_Nought gold where your hair was;_

_Nought warm where your hand was;_

_But phantom, forlorn,_

_Beneath the thorn,_

_Your ghost where your face was."_

Elrohir stood waiting quietly by Summer, his hands entwined in her long, soft mane. She leant into him, her head lowering and her eyes drooping at the gentle touch. Beside her, Flame snorted and tossed his head as Elladan secured a blanket and food supplies to a strap around his belly. The stallion was most unimpressed, pawing at the ground with his front leg and baring his teeth in warning at his owner, who for his part utterly ignored his steed's tantrum. Elrohir rolled his eyes, even as Summer stepped away from the high spirited animal.

It had been over a month since the terrible events in that secluded garden. In truth, Elrohir did not know what gnawed at his heart more; the death of Tirmor, or the sudden burst of selfish victory he had felt at that moment when he had breathed his last. The guilt had come swiftly after, and had plagued him ever since, an almost constant torment that he knew his twin felt too. The sooner they were back beneath the healing eaves of Imladris, and with their father, the better. Yet their departure had been delayed by a number of things, namely Estel's injuries. Whilst the superficial bruises and cuts had been two weeks cleared, the Ranger's back was still tender. Riding the distance home even now would be harrowing for him, but they had to hurry before the mountain paths became impassable. Unseasonably warm weather in the past couple of weeks had delayed the snows, and if they were quick enough they could be only a few days' ride from home before they set in.

Stretching out his leg again, Elrohir tested the healing muscle. It was slightly stiff both from lack of use and from heavy bandaging for support, but he thanked his lucky stars for the swift healing abilities of his race. Estel's recovery had been a much more painful process, and he was not so naïve as to believe that it was only his physical wounds that distressed him. A shadow had been haunting his looks of late, and whilst he ate enough to ensure his recovery, he was often silent and pale. Both twins had often found him staring blindly across a room or out of his window. More than either of them, he needed the cheery warmth of the Hall of Fire and the kind words and embrace of their father – Lord Elrond would know how to dispel the ghosts that haunted his youngest.

He knew healing would not come so readily to their hosts. They had barely seen King Thranduil or Legolas since that day. They had found themselves wanting in nothing, their every need attended to swiftly, but both twins had noticed that Rómen seemed to be sleeping little and shouldering the burden of the kingdom. When they had asked tentatively after the health of King and Prince, the Captain had smiled wanly. "Physically they are fine – but..." He paused, sighing. "They spend much of their days with each other, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. It pains me to see them like this, more than I can say...but the only healer here can be time, I think. They are both relieving an ache they thought long since healed."

Thus had their last five weeks in Mirkwood passed. The only time they had been with either Royal for any lengthy period of time had been during the service held in the Queen's memory, just last week. Pale and regal, King and Prince had stood side by side before the congregation of household staff and commoners who had known Nimlothnen in any small way. Many others besides had flooded the grounds of the Palace in silent reverence. Thranduil had spoken of Nimlothnen's love of her people and of her appreciation of the small delights in her life, the words safe, expected and impersonalised. Afterward, more words had been spoken, wreaths of autumn flowers had been laid and the people had dispersed as silently as they had stood, contemplating the tragedy. Legolas had lingered with them a while, exchanging a few quiet words in a tired voice. Though his wounds had healed, his face was drawn and colourless. Elladan had offered the deepest condolences from themselves and their father, feeling bitterly that the words had empty meaning; but Legolas, ever the diplomat, had smiled gracefully and thanked them for their kindness. It was as though a wall had been erected between by the Royal Family between them and the rest of the world, even between Legolas and themselves as friends. _Perhaps it was only to be expected_, Elrohir thought, leaning back into Summer and remembering a darker time in his own life not too long ago_. Rómen is right – time must be the best healer here._

It was Estel emerging from the Palace doors that stirred him from his reverie. The young Ranger limped slightly, and was relying on Lómë to help him down the steps. Her flaxen hair was bound up in an elegant multitude of knotted braids, her dress of simple brown spun wool as she offered her shoulder to him. As they approached, Summer too was roused from her rest, her keen ears flicking towards the sounds of hushed voices headed towards them.

Lómë's emerald eyes smiled kindly as she helped the Ranger to Pilgrim's side. The ready saddled bay mare stood nibbling at tufts of grass poking through the flagstones of the courtyard.

"I was just confessing to Estel," Lómë smiled at Elrohir, "I will be sad to see you leave – all of you. You must promise to return to us when...in happier times." Her smile was morose but genuine. They all knew it would be a few years before that would be possible.

"I should like that," the young man nodded. After a short pause, he added, "We take good memories with us of the Greenwood too, Lómë. Do you remember the first night we arrived? The feast and dance in the Great Hall?"

Lómë smiled wider, her emerald eyes shining with a light of their own. "How could I forget? The twins could not hold their wine –"

"And we had that awful hang over; I felt as though I had fought a balrog..." Elrohir reflected, grimacing.

"And Rómen forced Legolas into a dance –" Elladan chipped in.

"And you could not dance at all!" another familiar voice joined. They all turned to see Rómen striding towards them, his own smile mirroring his sister's. "And we cannot forget our battle in the orchard."

"We all had leaves in our hair!" Elrohir laughed lightly.

"And Estel would not stop complaining of the cold," the Captain winked.

"Yet as I remember it, it was you that lost!" Estel rejoined.

For a few moments, there was a comfortable silence as each of them wandered through their memories of the last few months. It had not all been darkness, Estel admitted to himself. He had made lifelong friends here, he knew – and one day, he would return to them.

In the end, it was Rómen that pulled them from the past. "Have you everything you need for your journey?" he inquired, eyeing up the supplies on the three mounts. Elladan nodded graciously. "And you are sure you do not wish for an escort to the forest eaves?" the Captain checked. Again, Elladan assured him all was well.

"We will travel faster alone, and we know the paths. Besides," he added, "Any danger that might befall us will only do so long after we have crossed your borders into the wilds. But I think we shall fare well."

Rómen nodded sighing. "Then there is nothing more to keep you," he said. "Let me help you mount, Estel – Lómë, steady his other shoulder for me..."

Between them, the siblings managed to get Estel comfortably into the saddle. Pilgrim raised her head, the long strands of grass sprouting from her black muzzle swaying in the breeze. The twins nimbly followed suit, adjusting the cloaks about their shoulders. Rómen grasped each of their hands in turn, followed by Lómë's soft kisses to their cheeks as they leant down towards her.

"Namárië - No in elenath hîlar nan hâd gîn," Rómen bade them in perfect Quenya. "Farewell – May all stars shine upon your path."

"I Melain berio le, a ná gweth ú-athrado i ven am drevaded lín," Lome added in Sindarin, "May the Valar keep you, and no shadow cross your path during your journey."

"Le hannon; I ad gevedim, until we meet again," Elrohir nodded, raising his hand in salute and turning Summer towards the yawning forest gates.

Rómen slipped his arm around Lómë's shoulder as the three horses made their way out of the deserted courtyard, shod hooves echoing over the cobbles until they reached the soft autumn leaves of the woodland path.

For some time they travelled in silence, Estel sadly thinking on the difference in the manner of their departure to that of their arrival. He wished he could have seen and spoken with Legolas before he left, but he understood why it had not been possible. His friend had been to see him a few times during his recouperation, but not many words had passed between them. In a way it felt as though not many words were needed – or at least, that they were not ready to be spoken yet. The wounds were still too raw.

They had been riding for some hours, their pace leisurely whilst still within the forest. Elladan wanted to make their first camp at the forest edge, so their was no use in travelling faster than was necessary. Suddenly, Elladan pulled Flame up short, spinning him around to peer through the forest behind them. Elrohir heard it too and mimicked his brother's stance. Estel, who had long since accepted that the keen elven hearing of his brother's far surpassed his own, drew Pilgrim to a halt and looked at them questioningly.

"A rider approaches," Elrohir replied to the unspoken question. They did not believe they had any reason to fear the oncoming stranger, not when they were still deep in Mirkwood, and so sat waiting. Finally, even Estel's ears picked up the steady rhythm of a galloping horse punctuated short gaps as it leapt over fallen trees.

"Someone seems to be in a hurry," Elladan observed mildly.

From around the turn in the road behind them burst a coursing white stallion, and the precious load upon his back non other than the Crown Prince of Mirkwood. Estel could not prevent the smile creeping across his face as his friend drew up alongside him, slightly breathless and windswept.

"Rómen told me you were leaving today, but I did not realise you would go so early!" he gasped. His stallion pranced beneath him, as exhaulted as his rider by the sudden burst of speed. The colour that had not graced the Prince's face for weeks now flushed across his cheeks and his eyes glittered in the autumn breeze.

"We did not want to disturb you, Legolas," Elrohir said tactfully.

"But now look at him, coming and disturbing us!" Estel replied, his deep laughter ringing through the trees. It felt good to laugh and to _really_ mean it – it had been so long since he had done so. Legolas could not resist the infectious sound from this indomitable, impossible man and was soon laughing with him. Elladan grinned and chuckled to himself, whilst Elrohir rolled his eyes, struggling to contain his own laughter. It wasn't even that something funny had happened – it was the sudden release of weeks of tension, a natural healing that no herb could administer. Clasping Legolas's arm with one hand and wiping tear from his eyes with the other, Estel beamed at his friend.

"Oh look, now I've made you cry," Legolas winked, whilst Estel snorted indignantly.

"You'll have to try harder than that, prissy elf," he retorted.

"Yes I should imagine I will, you stubborn mortal," Legolas replied, his smile still wide.

"Will you ride with us to the border?" Elladan asked.

"That was my intent in following you," Legolas nodded. "I am glad I caught up with you before you reached it. I had meant to ride with you from the Palace but as I say, I did not realise you were leaving so early."

"Well you are here now," Estel said. "Come; let us take our final ride together."

Setting off, the horses set their own brisk pace, cantering through the trees as though spurred by the risen spirits of their riders. Even the clouds seemed to part for them, the weak autumn sun shining with dappled light through the evergreen boughs. Legolas revelled in the freedom of it, his senses tingling with the sights and smells and sounds of his beloved home, of the easy footfalls and the heavy breathing of the horse beneath him, his silken mane flowing like mist. He felt the shadow that had captured his heart begin to fade, its strong sway over his state of mind beginning to fade as he listened to the forest trees humming alongside him.

He knew – they all knew – that true release from the events that long month ago was not yet come; but it was beginning. And he knew that when the sons of Elrond made camp that night, he would sit with them by their fire and watch the stars of Elbereth with a lighter heart than he had felt in weeks. With the rising of the sun, he knew they would leave Mirkwood for good, and that he would return to his father, but it would be with a new resolution. _Perhaps sometimes we must come through darkness to discover our own strength_, he pondered. That darkness was fading, and with new hope he would dispel it from every corner of his home. In time, even his father could learn to live again – to truly live, and let the memory of his wife rest at last in peace.

The past was behind them, whistling through the bare branches as the horses raced along; and ahead lay life, and adventure, and love – but most importantly, with every strengthened step, there lay hope for them all.

**Well, there we have it! Its all over, and please pride yourselves on being the first audience to read my first ever completed full length fic! Only one more thing to add, just as an expkanation really; I sort of came to loosely base Tirmor's condition on de Clerambault's syndrome as it is protrayed in Ian McEwan's 'Enduring Love'. If you have read it, you'll know what I mean – and if you've not, you definitely should! I am genuinely not sure if I'll be writing again, or if I do whether it will be LOTR – but I've enjoyed myself more than I can say. So all that is left to say is: I'll see you in the Prancing Pony – drinks are on me!**

**Loadsa love, Estel xxx**


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